#like sincerely on the off chance you should have a burning desire to read one of these please let me know..

[armchairaleck]

Sadly for me I have come to the end of my writing ideas for one shot stories which means I am now faced with the unpalatable dilemma of trying to actually write and finish one of my long fic ideas, and this level of commitment fills with me with existential dread.. well actually I think other shit does that and I write to try and forget the yawning chasm that opens up beneath me, but oh well, never mind eh…

I currently have four multi-chapter WIP ideas all of which exist in various degrees of very unfinished states on my hard drive, none of which I’m certain I can complete, but even so, I will outline them below, I will ponder them, I will be totally open to any suggestions that probably no one has..

Viren Origin Fic

Okay so my TDP original idea was always to write Viren’s background and relationship with Harrow from around age 13/14 right up to the start of the show... the main problem with this is - all the known cannon stuff seems to squeeze everything into about 8-10 years in the middle, while leaving the decades on either side of his marriage up until the magma titan debacle like a blank void of stuff I would have to make up and get totally wrong - due to my blinkers with Viren, my desire to make the world a lot darker than it’s probably supposed to be, and my unshakable belief that Harrow and Viren’s friendship becomes a twisted and suffocating vine that sucks them both into the pit of their own poor moral morasses.. but is also all they have.. and it’s sad..

So the plus side of this - I just really kinda love to explore the Viren/Harrow, Viren & Kpp’Ar, Viren/Lissa relationships, along with Sarai… I also love the slow descent of Viren from carefree boy, to loving dad to errr… not loving dad?

Down side – I could start writing this and find it is totally blown out of the water by the new cannon that will appear this summer and that often derails me, because while I am absolutely able to misread a character and their motivations and level of evil intent, like a fucking pony prancing around a field on a spring day.. I can get oddly OCD about additions to story cannon that mean this could very easily get destroyed and then I would have utterly wasted my time… also there are A LOT of missing pieces to fill in..

Viravos dead souls fic

Urgh, following on from this.. I also thought I could round it off with some vaguely cannon Viren/Aaravos.. um.. two years dead lost souls fic.. that could also be a stand alone. So for some reason my brain did not go down the horny Aaravos emerging from the cocoon s3/s4 gap fic, that people might actually want to read, and instead went to the hey.. what if Aaravos had to give the traumatised soul of Viren two years of therapy, in space, while his body lies on earth stitched in stasis.. anyway, it’s basically a lot of moping and angst between a middle aged man regretting all his life choices and a near eternal elf who has been irreversibly psychologically damaged by 300 years of solitary confinement.. fun times? This is not.. I also want to give them an unrealistic level of softness here because I'm pretty sure Viren will get no happy ending and I want him to have something.. I’m a sap and I have to just deal with this sad fact..

The plus side of this - I guess.. oh.. I don’t even know if there is a plus side.. people might want to read it? Until they discover that for an E rated fic it will really offer them nothing at all.. just slightly traumatised bad sex.. well, haha, that’s all my E rated fic to be fair…

Downside - I cannot really write Viravos to save my life.. meh..

Viren/Kpp’Ar Gothic AU

Alright, I switched this to gothic for more historical leeway and more opportunities for brooding, crazy mansions, resurrection and ghosts in the attic.. anyway.. this is a time when humans have fucked the world up even more fully, when they have destroyed nearly all magical components and dark mages are a dying breed of unhinged self-destructive maniacs that make Jack Parsons look sane.. I have a vague outline for this stitched out that I will probably expound upon in a different post, it’s pretty dumb and deranged and exists mostly so I can write some Viren and Kpp’Ar together..

Plus side of this – I mean despite the fact I’m patchy on the historical details I do love me a bit of gothic - brusque anti-social Kpp’Ar energy, mixed with Viren channelling his inner hysterical lady vibes… (just kidding olden days hysterical girls with smelling salts, you could never be as overwrought as Viren gets in front of a mirror..)

Minus side – this is literally as ridiculous as it sounds, there would be A LOT of plot I would have to write to fill inbetween the main beats, and I would probably have to do a lot of research.. watching old black and white horror films and reading the first 100 pages of gothic novels that I’ll simply forget to finish.. sigh.. okay maybe I’ll do the research and forget the writing..

Cyberpunk AU

Welp.. despite the last one, this is probably the most insane of all my ideas and exists solely because I wanted to ship Viren with Ibis… What? Why did I want to do this? I have literally no idea, except that often for some reason my brain will think.. oh.. I wonder what would happen if those two completely incompatible characters that have no way to actually get together in cannon met up and had a fuckin ridiculous and unlikely relationship that literally no one else in the whole world would care about?

So despite the fact that I know I don’t have a quarter of the world building chops necessary to actually write this, I have thought about it quite a lot..

Dumb things this AU contains:

A physical border between human kingdoms and Xadia where armies are constantly lined up in a don’t blink first cold war scenario…

An online version of the breach that separates the shitty human commodore 64 8-bit level of technology from the apple mac in 100 years sleek levels of advancement the Xadians have achieved..

That humans, god bless their ingenuity, have discovered a way to hook into, in order to try and steal the technology of the five nexus powers and boost themselves out of the depressing state of their own existence..

Defection from Xadia to the human kingdoms by various elves who have grown tired of the 1984 levels of state surveillance imposed on them by the dragons.. and who now work with the humans as primal jumpers, i.e. those who can get into the breach naturally..

Dark jumpers, who are social pariahs with both humans and elves and destroy everything they touch.. as per cannon..

Zero magic in the human kingdoms because they’re so awful of course they’ve destroyed it all, they rely on the dirt and smog of fossil fuels, while Xadia is renewable and magical all the way, but also under the grip of dictatorial state control.. seems like you just can’t have it all eh..

Just the whisper of Aarovos existing out there somewhere in the online breach like Jeff Bridges in Tron Legacy…

Weird pseudo sex pollen stuff that I would really have to remove to stop a decent into pure insanity..

Um.. drugs.. this is cyberpunk and the ONLY cyberpunk type stuff I have read is either by Philip K Dick or is Neuromancer… which means I figure cyber punk just has to involve a heinous amount of drug taking, which is probably inappropriate for a kids cartoon fic..

Alright, this makes total sense in my head but I am aware that trying to write it down makes it sound pretty nuts..

Plus sides – none?

Minus sides – I think those have all be listed above… so I should probably leave this here…

Alright, that's all I have thought about, which is probably for the best..

Honestly I do not know what to do here, maybe work on everything concurrently and finish nothing.. maybe do nothing.. maybe try and learn to draw better so I don’t have to worry so much about writing and plot and pacing and world building.. maybe wait for the sweet inspiration for a one shot of below 15k words to hit me..

..and yet I feel compelled to write SOMETHING.. which sorta sucks..

[maxemilianverstappen]

lestappen -fell first/fell harder?

Max has always wanted to connect.

His desire to talk and share with Charles isn't something new. It must have been like that since their childhood. He wanted to be friends or at least good acquaintances with Charles since their karting days. It is so clear that he has always wanted someone that raced like him as his friend not just as his rival.

I think he is better at distancing himself from what happens on the track compared to Charles. If you don't bad mouth him or if you don't pull stupid shit, he doesn't pay it back and seems more prone to just put it behind as "it is what it is". A bit like old school racers like Kimi. He just shrugs it off unless you make a huge spectacle out of it.

Charles is different. He holds grudges. He never forgets about what goes down. I sincerely think that if he hasn't had this effective pr training he currently has, he would have been the one everyone would be calling "mad" now instead of Max. There is an angry little gremlin inside of him, but he is containing it too well. That's why he had been very aloof about his relationship with people who he sees as a rival/threat to him.

Look at how he used to act around Sebastian until he realized he was going to beat him. Then, his attitude went softer and more relaxed. The interesting and strange thing here is that Max is his fated rival even tho they haven'thad a real chance to actually duke it out yet. And even though he hasn't been able to beat him, he went softer and more relaxed and downright fond of him as time went on seemingly all out of his own volition. Willingly... Even as he visibly tried to stay cool, aloof, and keep a distance. In the end, he just caved in. He gave into his own curiosity, his own burning need to understand what made Max fast, what made him smile like that even after he lost, what made him so kindly to him, what made him respect him, elevate him, insist on their equality and talent and brilliance in front of the cameras again and again. What made him seek his eyes out in a crowd as if he needed his validation, as if he even needed validation.... Wouldn't you also go crazy as you tried to solve this puzzle that's Max, who has been following you around as if you have always been best friends, talking to you as if you have always talked about trivial stuff and serious racing stuff alike in the same breath. No matter how much time passes between their each talks, Max just picks the conversation up as if no time passed at all (my beautiful son in spectrum :).

Wouldn't you also feel awkward about the ease with which he just captivates your whole attention and spins your whole world around when you had been obsessing over how the fuck he made that move stick, when the hell you will beat him, what the hell you should have done differently to stop this mother lover or how you finally showed him who is the best one, how you just smashed a spectacular win against him.... He just slots himself beside you and smiles like the sun personified. All sincere and real. God, it would have made me go mad first in frustration and then with love. I don't think anyone could have a chance. And Charles kept his ground and tried to keep the distance and the facade of disinterest admirably (read: frustratingly) long.

I firmly believe that Charles was afraid of getting closer to Max. Image wise, it might have looked bad for him to fraternize with the enemy/rival while he was losing against him. He might have been perceived as the "lesser" one among the two. I think Max sensed this and that was why he firmly insisted that Charles was his equal. In a similar car, they would be even closer. That he never tried to create this myth of "I am special and I am the sole reason that we are winning, that I am a miracle worker, an underdog who still rises despite when the whole world is against me" like some other big names, lol. Max doesn't have a big head. He always acknowledges the teamwork and lets his driving do the talking. He never gloats. He respects hardwork and talent even in his rivals, even in people who always undermined him and tried to dilute his tremendous race craft and talent. Charles slowly came to learn this and when Max destroyed that preconceived little villain boy image in Charles' mind and what the media has been feeding to everyone about Max, he realized he had no reason to stay away. That Max genuinely just wanted to talk as two normal people who shared a common passion do.

So, Max fell first because he has always known they were alike in different ways, he knew Charles like he knew himself. But Charles fell harder because he slowly got fascinated by the way Max destroyed that childhood enemy and showed him a "Max" Charles had never expected Max to be.

[frostedfaves]

Naive (1)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the humans Wanda has met, you’re suddenly her favorite.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️ (be warned that this shit will get much darker in the future), subtle hand kink (don’t @ me)

A/N: special shoutout to the anon that inspired this fic series, I hope you enjoy this weird combo of AOU x IW Wanda. also if you have any previous knowledge of demons, throw it out the window before you read this because I guarantee that things will not add up here lmao

-

Wanda’s favorite thing about interacting with humans is her effect on them.

Walking through a crowd is fine. She’ll brush a few shoulders and rattle a few unsuspecting adults, flash solid black eyes at kids that either stare or scream. It’s temporary and brings a bit of fun to an otherwise dull day.

The real joy comes from direct contact. Wanda travels miles away from her apartment building, choosing different stores, restaurants and cafés just to keep things interesting. A new cashier each time. She’ll have an air of friendliness about her that isn’t exactly fake; she finds most humans to be charming, despite their fragile minds.

“Will that be all?” Roy--according to his name tag--asks with a grin and Wanda nods in response. “Okay, your total is $21.14. You can just swipe or insert your card in the machine there.”

Wanda inserts her card carefully, complimenting the decor as she waits for the transaction to be completed. After returning it to her wallet, she flashes a soft smile at Roy as he hands her the receipt, purposefully brushing her fingers with his. As his skin makes contact with one of her rings, she notices the goosebumps rising along his arm and hears his breathing pattern change.

“Roy? Everything alright?”

She hears the concerned voice of a coworker as she makes her way to a table to wait for her meal, already seated by the time Roy coughs in an effort to collect himself.

“Yeah, just feeling off I guess. I’ll be fine.”

A chuckle falls from her lips as she watches the poor cashier attempt to return to his previous state of mind, finding the urge to smile and wave when his eyes cut over to her. His voice trembles when he calls her name and he stands as far away as possible when she approaches the counter to grab her order.

“Thanks for everything, Roy.”

Sensing that he’s startled enough without it, she keeps her other tricks hidden in her sleeves and simply walks away, holding her laughter until the doors close behind her. A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

-

The next day brings Wanda to a bookstore around lunchtime. She takes a minute to browse the aisles, taking an exceptionally long time lingering in the section harboring books on angels and demons. The stereotypes amuse more than upset her like they used to in the beginning.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wanda turns to make eye contact with the employee behind her, about to ask a question for the fun of it when a laugh catches her attention. Her gaze redirects to the café counter straight ahead, and a warm feeling washes over her when she hears the laugh again.

You’re genuinely entertained by the elderly woman purchasing a bagel with exact change, and Wanda manages to catch the end of the conversation as she draws near.

“Safe to say, I haven’t worn the blouse since that day.” She bids you farewell with her bagel and receipt in hand, eyes twinkling as she observes Wanda on her way past. “You have such bright and beautiful hair, dear.”

“Thank you,” Wanda responds with sincerity, attention locked on you while approaching the counter. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you greet her with a voice much calmer than the one you use with most of your other customers. “What can I get you today?”

You watch the orange haired woman turn her head to study the items behind the glass, taking the time to do your own inspection. You admire the dark red jacket that covers most of her torso, gaze lingering on the multiple rings hugging her fingers that seem to be smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, almost in a nervous fashion. It brought you a bit of comfort, assuming that she was affected in the same way.

“What do you recommend?”

“Oh, well…” You walk over to open the glass case from your side of the counter, naming each item as you grab it. “I usually have this pretzel that’s stuffed with spinach and cheese and this brownie. I can heat both of them for you, if you’d like.”

“I would love that,” Wanda responds in a grateful tone, placing a bottle of water on the counter after taking it from the fridge. “And I’ll also have one of these incredibly overpriced waters.”

You begin her order with a laugh, and she watches you ring everything up with the speed and expertise of a seasoned employee, wondering how she’d gone this long without running into you. The total price is brought to the digital screen just before her card is inserted, and she takes the time to quickly slip her rings into her pockets while you’re taking the pretzel and brownie over to the miniature oven. The last thing she wants to do is scramble your brain before she even gets the chance to explore it.

“Here’s your receipt,” you announce while giving Wanda the slip of paper, your eyes lingering on her hand for a moment before looking at her again. “Your food should be ready soon.”

“Okay, thank you…” Her sentence trails off as she searches for your name, the letters rolling off her tongue with ease when she finally locates it on the apron covering your chest.

“You’re welcome…” You trail off in the same fashion and she catches on quickly.

“Wanda.”

“You’re welcome, Wanda,” you repeat as you hand her the water bottle before she can walk away.

Less than two minutes later, you approach the table she’s taken over with two small ceramic plates and a sheepish grin.

“I should’ve asked if you were going to stay a while, but I can grab some bags if you need to go.”

Wanda shakes her head with a laugh as she takes them from you, startling you when she doesn’t react to the excessive heat radiating from the dishes.

“This is perfect.”

She takes her time with eating, and your attention is drawn to her between customers, grateful that she’s too busy with her phone to notice your stares. On the other hand, Wanda’s mind is filled with thoughts of you. What you look like when you think she can’t see you glancing over, what you smelled like when you were close. The nerves, the kindness, the desire to learn her name despite her being just another customer to you. She knows that you noticed her missing rings, but she’s already prepared with a cover story. A two minute conversation has her dying to pick your brain more, learn your habits and become more familiar with your body, beyond a simple brush of your fingertips. She already wants you to herself, just the way you came, without her interference for now; that’ll come later.

A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

-

Despite Wanda leaving an hour before your shift ended, she lingers in your thoughts on the bus ride and walk home. You find yourself recalling her kind smile, fidgeting fingers and the scent of her perfume when she passed you on her way out, and you’re so deep in your memories that you end up colliding with your apartment door.

“That’s not going to get you inside any faster, dear.”

Your cheeks burn as you face Ruth for the second time today, the first time being earlier when you sold her a bagel.

“I know, Ruthie,” you respond sheepishly as you pull your keys from your pocket. “Is everything okay? You’re usually in bed watching a cowboy show by now.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I could talk to you.” She checks to see if the hallway is empty before opening her door and waving you over. “Come on, quickly.”

You scurry into the apartment behind her, taking in the scene before you while she locks the door. Having visited her before, you know she keeps the television at a higher volume, but it seems louder than normal.

“I know I might seem like I’ve lost my marbles, but I wanted to warn you about that woman you saw today....The one with the bright hair.”

“You mean Wanda?” you question, eyes widening when she nods. “Warn me about what?”

“There’s something off about that Wanda, if that even is her real name.” She snatches her arm out of her robe and brings it closer for you to see. “I’ve had these chills since I brushed against her earlier. Something’s not right with her. How do you even know her name? I’ve never seen her before.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assure her as you help her slip her arm back in the sleeve. “I only know her name because we were having a friendly conversation and she used mine. I was just being polite to someone I’ll probably never even see again.”

“Just be careful,” she pleads as you head toward her door again, and you offer your best attempt at a relaxed smile.

“I’ll be fine, Ruthie. Get some rest, okay?”

You hear her lock the door behind you as you make your way back to your own apartment, rushing through the process of unlocking the door and securing it once you’re inside. As much as you don’t want to let Ruth get you worked up over a stranger, you can’t help thinking about the odd little things you noticed earlier. 

It isn’t unusual for someone to linger after buying food or drinks from your counter, whether they have homework or even just a phone to keep them busy. Wanda seemed to be waiting for someone the entire time, and you remember hoping that she wasn’t on a date, despite not wanting her to be stood up. But she simply slid her phone in her pocket and departed with a friendly wave as if nothing had happened.

You especially remember her waving at you with those ringless fingers, and wondering silently where the intricate jewelry had disappeared to. Obviously you just assumed that the rings were tucked away on her person and not dumped in the trash, but she doesn’t seem like the type of person to give up on her accessories in the middle of the day. Part of you--a part that you didn’t dare to address--wondered if she’d emptied her hands to send you a subtle sign. No, that can’t possibly be it.

Sleeping proves to be difficult with so many unanswered questions floating about, but you eventually give into the act. A few hours later, you peel open your eyes when you think you hear something in the room. The digital clock that sits on your bedside and serves as an alarm and occasional radio reads 3:34am, and you’re just about to close your eyes again when you hear another sound. You raise your head to turn toward your closet, and a scream is trapped in your throat as you catch sight of a figure in the shadows.

The next time you wake, the sun is out and your alarm is blaring on the nightstand beside you. Your gaze flickers over to the closet as you reach out to silence it, your heartbeat dropping slightly when you don’t see anything other than clothes. Deciding that you must’ve been dreaming, you shake away the fearful thoughts and head to the bathroom to start getting ready for another day of work.

The only thing you haven’t decided on yet is whether you want to see Wanda again.

[harfanfare]

How to win a heart of Jamil Viper?

1.   Don’t be a typical hero(ine).

Contrary to the popular romance trope, tripping over the air to land on a certain cool-looking boy, and dropping all carried things, wouldn’t make Jamil fall for you. Instead, just falling because of you and sharply crashing with a floor would make him rather cautious around you and keeping a distance whether he has anything in his hands.

Believe him or not, he doesn’t need another ditsy and erratic person around him—like a certain leader from a certain dorm, who happens to create a mess anytime, anywhere.

So, let someone else be the protagonist of the story.

In that situation, you may be a side character that gets its way through obstacles and classic borders of story scheme and is much more interesting than the main persona.

That’s how you get his attention.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2.   Be a help.

Oh, a person that would help him with his chores means to him much more than gold. Sometimes.

“Can I help you anyhow?” you asked when Jamil was going to the kitchen after a daily training with the rest of the dorm. He lifted his eyebrow, waiting for further explanation. “I mean with cleaning or something.”

Jamil glanced at you, not sure about your intentions.

Who would like to do something to help without having something in return? With only your will? No, it doesn’t work well in the same sentence.

But some help would be great. So, he just needs to keep sure that he won’t fall into any trap for letting you help, yes?

“Sure,” he said casually, not letting his face nor voice reveal any of his thoughts he run into. “[Name], right? Could you bring and clean the dishes from longue?”

And you helped. You really helped him a lot, staying over two hours till everything was shimmering with cleanliness and your abrupt desire to clean something and be more useful, burned out.

“Thank you for your help,” Jamil said, after correcting the last cushion in the Scarabia’s longue. You flashed him a smile. “But why, if I can ask, did you offer it in the first place?”

He got a quick response in form of a shrug.

“I... don’t really know,” you admitted, glancing at him. “...But you don’t complain, no?”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3.   Be his dish taster.

“The way to a one's heart is through his stomach.”

“Try it,” Jamil handed you a spoon filled with some kind of stew. You consentaneously your opened mouth and drank all content of the spoon. Your mouth filled with many flavours and you couldn’t be sure if you ever ate that good combination in your life. “How was that?”

“Excellent as always.”

You said it all sincerely and maybe would have asked for seconds, if not the fact that Jamil already turned his back to you and got back to pots. He took another spoon and tried the dish himself, clicked his tongue and added more salt.

Once again, he turned to you and handed you a spoon.

“And how was that now?”

“Excellent as always,” you chuckled as he frowned at you.

“Don’t you think that you should add more words to your dictionary? You say the same thing on every dish,” once he said that you finished drying the last plate and preparing silverware for today’s fiesta.

“Don’t you think that I won’t be able to eat anything at the party when I will eat enough of your cooking now to write a poem about each of your culinary masterpieces?” Jamil chuckled slightly at your words.

“So, you don’t want any more?” he teased, but inside he was really flushed. Praises or cajolery, it all makes his heart skip a beat.

Finally, there was someone who appreciated all work he’s done.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4.   Distract Kalim from him.

“You really shouldn’t go there,” you said, your voice as serious as you could keep it. “I mean, what if there is a monster who wants to kidnap you?”

Kalim cocked his head a little, considering your words. After a while, he nodded, fully convinced by your argument.

“You’re right,” he said. “I will warn others about this..!”

Kalim turned on his heel and spotted some people returning from morning classes. He ran to them, greeting them and walking with them as he tried to introduce the situation.

Still not believing Kalim fall for your words, you were standing alone in the centre of the corridor, a bit dumbstruck to discover the excuse Jamil came up with work.

“...Are you sure, you don’t want to tell him that some student’s from other dorm are here?” you asked as if saying to yourself your thoughts aloud.

But there was someone, someone who was hiding behind a big potted palm. He only gave you thumbs up as a preventative measure if there was still a chance that Kalim didn’t just dash through the halls to talk with some dorm students.

Jamil only looked at you and mouthed “No. Party. Today.” and quietly shifted to the corner, where the wall hid him and he could finally get up.

Mission accomplished.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5.   Get rid of bugs for him.

“[Name],” Jamil called out to you, bursting through the door to your room. He looked very pale and panic was staying still in his eyes. “Would you be so kind to... deal with an intruder?”

You frowned a little before biting back a sigh. At first, you were concerned. Even Kalim getting in a serious mess didn’t make him react that seriously. But then you remembered that there was one thing that could make Jamil call you out of nowhere, acting like in an emergency. Emergency only in eyes of few.

Bugs.

Jamil never admitted to you that he is scared of them, but every time you brought up the topis, he snapped his fingers at it, saying that insects just aren’t his favourite kind of animal.

“Hmm~ Maybe after I finish this chapter,” you said, conspicuously turning a page of the book you were reading and with all your will trying not to smile nor to look at the wincing expression Jamil was wearing.

“[Name],” he said, his voice shaking with anger or frustration. “Go there right now or I will make sure you won’t get today’s dinner.”

...No dinner?

“Yes, mum,” you said putting the textbook aside and getting up from the comfortable couch.

Of all people, Jamil is probably the only one—well, maybe also Trey—that could make those words sound dangerous. Like, no dinner made by the best chef in Scarabia? It would be pure agony.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6.   Have competitions.

“Aren’t you a little too good in this game?” you asked, regretfully placing pieces of the game back to the initial places.

He gave you a smile that slowly turned into a smirk, as you groaned at the next round you have lost. You flopped on the big pillow, all your will to play destroyed, as you sank between really cosy material.

“I told you I won’t give you a head start,” Jamil said, his steady voice mixed with amusement. “You even told me that you don’t want me to go easy on you before the game started.”

“Too bad,” you clicked your tongue at his response. “I was sure that after watching you play with Kalim, I remembered your tactics.”

You’ve watched at least eight rounds of Jamil and Kalim playing this game, and when it was coming to end, you were almost sure you understood and remembered the technique he was using in certain situations.

But, to your disappointment, it looked like he – even without using any of his tricky cards in his sleeve – was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, because, after three moves, you knew that probably all three were wrong when the opponent was Jamil.

“You gained nothing by it. Of course, I lost to him or... there would be a trouble,” he exclaimed. “You are different.”

“Oh, thank you. I can lose but he can’t, huh?” you frowned at him as he almost choked on the surprise he felt by hearing your response.

“...Yeah, that’s it. Just it.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7.   Have study sessions together.

“One class had a test before us,” you said scrolling through your class chat group. “They said that there wasn’t any question about these dates.”

Jamil scribbled down years of the most important magic wars, from time to time looking at you who were listing some test exercises and feeling somehow unmotivated to even properly open a history book.

Your notebook was lying in front of you, today’s lesson topic on the top of the page and many detailed doodles on its margin.

Once again... what was the unit you are having an exam about?

“It doesn’t mean, we won’t get a question about that,” Jamil tried to convince you, sliding textbook your way. “Now, read that aloud, while I prepare notes.”

You blinked twice as if woken up from daydreaming. Were you daydreaming?

“Are you sure..? I mean, all I will do is reading. Wouldn’t you rather want us to read it silently and then share our notes after this?”

“Don’t think about it much. I really like your voice,” he said it so thoughtlessly you weren’t sure if said it as an unarguable fact or just his smooth talker abilities were showing off, “and gave me your notes for the last exam so we’re even. And you won’t do any good notes when you’re sulking over this exam like that.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8.   Remind him to take breaks.

“You won’t get out of here,” you exclaimed spreading your arms as shielding a door from him. “Not a chance.”

Jamil stood a feet next to you, grimace stretching on his lips as he knew what’s coming up.

“I have to go, [Name].”

He tried to get through you, lightly removing you of his way. He wasn’t a fan of using force on anyone, and he was a hater of using force on you.

Much more than a speakable argument, you were pushing each other closer or further from the door, having a staring contest and reciting all the things he had done in the past two days; except for his daily duties and with the upcoming birthday party of few students of Scarabia who happen to have a celebration in the same day, the number of tasks he was given was overwhelming.

“Stop it!” you protested, trying to push him back. “I am seriously worried about you! Please... take a break.”

Every time he was coming closer to the exit, you stepped back, blocking his way, bumping into him and having to try again.

“You know I have a lot of work to do,” he said, finally stepping back and giving you a break from trying to separate him from the door. “I can’t just give up all my duties, even if I would love a break.”

“I can do it for you,” you quickly offered. “But please, now, go to sleep and don’t you dare touch anything related to school or cleaning.”

...What a weird request.

When was the last time anyone told him to take a break?

He doesn’t remember.

But now, he can say it was recently, all thanks to you.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9.   Promise.

It was really hard for him once all his hard work to keep a high position within the dorm students suddenly dropped after his overblot accident.

“[Name]...”

However, the thing he regretted the most was hurting you. Taking the whole dorm under his unique magic spell, the hypnosis also affected you, making you another servant of his. Even you weren’t the one he ordered a lot, you felt betrayed that even the friendship you two developed didn’t stop him from overblotting.

And if he knew that you would avoid him like fire after the accident, he would probably hesitate a lot.

His throat tightened as he saw you one day in the corridor, looking somehow lonely and tired. He dashed to you, beseeching you to talk to him.

“Sorry for asking, but, Jamil, you don’t hate me, right?” you asked with a pain in your voice. You couldn’t even look at his face, feeling the incomprehensible weight in your gaze. “I mean... Do you only act in front of me friendly? ...Like... with Kalim..?”

“No, no, no,” he protested quickly, making it almost sound like a plea. He gently grabbed your hands, praying that you won’t harshly jerk them back because of him. “I don’t hate you. I really like you. I mean every word I said to you.”

The feeling of release struck you like thunder, you took a big breath, your eyes watering. You slowly reached for his touch, finally ending in a hug.

Jamil ran his fingers through your hair, smelling a familiar, reassuring scent of yours. After a while, he whispered a question.

“So... could you please not avoid me anymore? I know it will be hard to bring up the same relationship we had, but... could you give me a second chance?”

“Okay. But under one condition,” you said, slightly backing off from him. Before he could wonder about the term you would require from him, you finished your thought. “You must be honest with me. I... don’t know what will I do if it all turned to be a play...”

“I will,” he replied, putting his whole heart in these two words. “I will always be honest with you. And won’t ever use my unique magic on you.”

You looked up at him, a small smile starting to rise and heart-throbbing more wilder with his words. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10.            Make him confess.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Jamil appeared in front of you, almost like popping out of nowhere, as you were done with today’s lessons and slowly heading to your dorm. He caught up with you, changing his pace to match yours.

“I have no plans. I will be probably sleeping or something,” you answered honestly, shrugging and reminding yourself that you should finally hang out with some people from your class to make sure your social life isn’t all over dead.

You were walking in quietly before Jamil broke silence and spoke up again.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” he asked his voice only giving a hint of nervousness—it was nothing compared to the stress he felt inside. It was just a “yes or no” question, he knew that he will meet in future many amazing people like you and shouldn’t be stressed, but having someone so dear to him being asked for a meeting where he will try to finally out find his feeling... it is stressful.

“Hehe~ what, are you asking me on the date?” you teased, but much more than mocking, you were hoping for an answer. For the honest answer, he promised you.

“...And what if I am?” he asked, his voice a bit hushed, but steady.

You felt how heat was coming all the way up to your cheeks, although you tried your best not to let anything more, as if a blush wasn’t obvious enough, know how excited and spellbound you are.

“Then, your wish is my command.”

[vinylhazza]

For Keeps (G.D)

Summary: Jesse knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to say it, or rather demand it. Grayson, who carries respect and dignity like a shield of armor, walks the line of being the vanilla boyfriend he always thought she’d want, or the guy that listens to the devil on his shoulder and embellishes on the fantasies that won’t leave him alone every night. There is a first for everything, a time and place to try something -- or some one new. There is a chance to set the fire in motion. He might just take it.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warning: Strong sexual content, giving head, fingering, spitting, explicit language 

          There is a first for everything.

          The first time you ride a bike, the first time you try your favorite food, the first time you win an award, the first time you hear your favorite song, the first time you talk to the person you’re meant to spend the rest of forever with, the first time you overcome your worst fear, the first time you read your favorite book, the first time you travel to a different country, the first time you have thoughts that should damn you for eternity and for some...there is even a first time for eating pussy.

         It’s an embarrassment he’d never wanted anyone to discover let alone put to the test. Sure his friends had their time to talk about their extensive knowledge on female anatomy, but whenever the topic of him and Jesse doing anything outside the box he himself had placed them in, his lips were sealed. For one thing it wasn’t their business, for two he’s not entirely sure what he would say. He knew the time would come. He didn’t view their relationship like a race and he knew Jesse didn’t either. They’d been friends for too long and knew each other too well for him to base their relationship off of sex. 

       Grayson keeps his eyes glued to his hands holding Jesse’s hips tight -- unsure of what to do now that he’s got her beneath him and wanting him to have his way with her. He knows what he wants, but doubts that he has the courage to pursue it within him. He’d watch her with careful eyes as she peeled off each article of clothing before pulling him close by his belt loop and on to the bed to kiss her rough busy day away. A picnic was nice, but his complete and undivided attention was better. Even if his eyes trailing up and down every part of her body made her nervous. 

          He’d done plenty of things with his ex before Jesse, but none of those things had involved his lips and tongue anywhere beneath the waist. Not anything like he’s inevitably about to do. 

         “Cat caught your tongue?” Jesse had snickered minutes ago, a sly smirk lacing up her ruby red lips from so much kissing -- moment’s before he’d gotten them both all hot and bothered. He couldn’t help it when he was with her, his self control falters and he’s drunk off her touch once again, swimming in a pool of despair he can’t control. All he can think about is her. Wanting her. Needing her. Touching every single inch of her velvety skin. Wanting to do things to her. Wanting her to do things to him. Things he would blush at in the future.

         Jesse was a woman with desires he’d only dreamed of women having. She was shy at times but the devil danced in her bright eyes. Grayson knew she wanted things she’d never had the guts to say out loud and things she only wanted from him alone. It all made him a fierce kind of nervous, but gave him an electrified thrill. A challenge for him to explore the workings of her body and all the ways he can make her more satisfied than she’s ever been. He didn’t plan on letting her go anytime soon - and if he wanted to do her right, he had to go outside of his comfort zone for her.

         Knowing Jesse was more experienced did things to him that he couldn’t begin to hide -- but more than anything it made him jealous of every set of hands that had ever touched her skin before his. It made him reckless and competitive, focused and haughty. He was better than them, he could be better than them.

         He could rapture her into a whirlwind of pleasure that would ruin her image of every man except him, wanting no one's mouth but his, daydream of no one’s lips but his own, beg for no one else’s touch, want no one else’s hands but the ones holding her now. It wasn’t about him, this wasn’t about his pleasure for once, it was truly all about her. 

         Pulling him back into the flames, he’s burning up under her intense stare, waiting for him to do something, do anything. Anything but watch her long enough to find something less than stellar, less than grand, less than exceptional. With her fears unfolding she pulls him down for a kiss of her own, a soft feather of a thing he can feel all the way to his toes. She’d always been good at that, giving  him more to miss when she’s away. The way she hugs him close is one of those things.

         Grayson fell hard into love—which wasn’t particularly unusual for the hopeless romantic he was, but he always knew Jesse was set apart from the seasonal heartthrobs. He was truly bewitched by her creativity, wanderlust, unapologetic confidence, patience, and beauty.

         An enchantress she was, beautiful beyond anything he could ever deserve. Drop dead gorgeous with the personality to match, there wasn’t a head that didn’t turn when she walked into a room, not a man that didn’t fumble over their words at any opportunity to talk to her, not a woman who didn’t want to be her friend. Sure her beauty was undeniable, but her benevolent heart beat it all.

         He may never know why Jesse had leaned in to kiss him seven months ago save for three days in a hidden corner in Café Verona -- a quaint treasure he’d always hold dear to his heart. Fairy lights criss-crossed along the ceiling, soft Jazz waltzing with the beat of his heart, emerald green leather bench pressing into his thighs. But he’s glad she did. He’s glad she leaned in to kiss him when he’d been building up the nerve for weeks. So afraid to go there but more afraid of not knowing what would happen if he didn’t. He’s glad she took his chin in between her fingers to hold him still enough to feel her lips press to his securely, a warmth swarming in his chest where the heart shaped hole once was.

          If he flipped through the pages of his memory, he would remember a statue-like stillness about him before he sunk into her touch, caging her head in his large careful hands. Feeling the gasp she tried to hide, the smell of grapefruit shampoo and the way her flushed cheeks felt under his stroking thumbs. He would see himself fall into her, around her and through her, off the edge of the rocky cliff and into the dark blissful deep of nothing but her.

          He’d be eternally grateful she looked at him with utmost sincerity and whispered with a raw kind of intensity that he’d “driven her mad you see” -- and he’d heard it then, the brittleness of her voice because fear rattles her to the core, and she had been scared out of her mind. A crack that tracked through her careful confession and to the root of him. Jesse was scared of what he meant, what he was in terms of her heart, what he could be if she continued to kiss him the way she was.

          In that quiet moment he remembered what made her so deeply rooted in his heart: the laugh that rattled him, the soft smell of peaches and vanilla, the way she never drives without sunglasses because her mom who passed away much too early did the same, the dance she does when she finally eats the first bite of food after damn near breaking the world in half in hanger, the way she punches the roof of her car after making it through a yellow light because her best friend in high school did the same, the way she always turns her spoon upside down when eating ice cream, and the way she always has answers for everything no matter what topic, even the way she laughs entirely too hard at Family Feud. 

         For that reason alone he waited for the physical parts to come when they may. It was new and exciting sure, and he’d always loved her heart of course, but her body was uncharted territory. He was patient, yes. A gentleman guarding some assumed virtue, even if he knew better than to think she was anything but a seductress. Patient enough to tell her no when she’s had one too many drinks and not enough discipline. They’d been friends before anything else - the best of friends with a foundation of trust. He’s spent years trying to gain that trust and he vowed to keep it.

          Of course he could have been that guy on many occasions: possessive, selfish, greedy and crude. He could have played his cards and dealt his dirty hand at the wrong moment and still pulled out ahead. I mean hell, how often do guys get out of the friend-zone? But he wasn’t that guy. No matter the relationship status — they weren’t ready.

         They hadn’t been ready to cross that carefully drawn line in the sand, not until now. With the strawberry White Barn candle burning in the corner on the cluttered desk one could expect from a college student and a half full can of Arizona tea on the night stand...her face lit with a mystical kind of magic he’d only ever seen the day she leaned back after their first official kiss. 

         “Hold my hair.”

         Grayson found the words slipping off his tongue easier than they’d come all night. All he’s planned on was a simple date in the park that was tucked away and secluded from all the people that could interrupt, he’d even brought her favorite book and laid back on a soft patch of grass to listen to her melodic voice read to him. He’d planned to come back and share a peck or two while watching a new episode of Daredevil and holding her through the night. She’d had a long day full of texts to him, trying to get him to give her the okay to walk out of her low-paying job and not look back. He never planned on laying her down on his bed and caressing every inch of her skin until he was finally delving into a place he’d never been quite like this.

          He was nervous but he could do anything, be anything with her hand in his hair and her kind eyes watching him defile her. He just knew from this moment on he would have a reputation to uphold, as cocky as it sounded. He had to prove he wasn’t as lost as he felt. He felt like a virgin all over again, like he was doing something raw and real and scary. A secret only the wrinkled sheets would remind him of later.

          Her touch, her soothing him through something that frightened him has always been a crutch for him to lean on. When he got in a fight with his brother, she was there to comb through his hair and talk him through the proper apology, when he decided to change majors and had a breakdown so crippling he couldn’t breathe she rocked him through it until his breath was even once again, when he wrecked his new car on the way home from a party he never should have been at she was right there to give him a kiss on the cheek and help him call the insurance company and his erratic mother who loved her like a daughter. She led him through the rough parts of life and then some.

           He never imagined she would be leading him through something so sensual, but he needed her bringing him back to earth all the same.

          Jesse obliged with a grin of her own, feeling him shuffle down to trail a string of kisses across her torso and down to the base of her need and desire. The fireball of want burned in her stomach, turning her rational thoughts brown and charred. He was good at that, making her need him fiercely. She’d never wanted anyone so much, and even if she thinks back to past flings - she’d never been satisfied like she was with Grayson, and they’d done much less.

         “What are you thinking?” Jesse wonders, distracted by his soft supple lips and his nibbling at her hip, but wanting to hear the inner workings of his brain. Her fingers fidget, wanting to push him by his brown mop of hair down lower - just to feel him at last. She needed this distraction, she just needed his help to forget. Not that she hadn’t been waiting for months for this exact moment, there was just urgency in the way she’s stripped herself bare before him. 

          She almost expects him to wait for her direction, but jerks against him when he takes the lead all on his own. How could he not with her as his complete mercy, giving him the fuck me eyes and twisting a lock if hair around her finger? 

          Grayson thinks on that as he trails his mouth down, down, down to slick his tongue up the base of her, smirking to himself when she wiggles against him. “I’m thinking that I like you this way.”

          The contact was a shock to her nervous system and a promise of what was soon to come if she kept tempting him the way she was. She was a heathen with angel eyes. Someone infatuated with his innocence (at least he was more innocent than she) and curiosity to learn every curve and dip of her body. He made her feel powerful, unstoppable, undeniable. She craved it as much as he craved her own lips tracking across his skin - in the heat of the moment or in the still of the night.

          “Naked you mean?” She laughs then, trying to keep herself at least somewhat under control now that he’s grown some balls and taken the first step. She’s shocked momentarily that she didn’t have to practically order him into touching her.

           She grips her breasts at another bold swipe of his tongue. Rolling her hardened nipples between her fingers and tensing at the sparks flying up her center. The feeling of him spreading her open, blowing against her throbbing clit is almost too much to bear. Jesse curses then, a soft “fuck” she tries to reel back before he gets too big of a head. She knows it fell on eager ears when he delivers another bold stripe of his tongue up her center -- slow and deliberate. 

           “Unguarded,” he finally grumbles, rubbing away the goosebumps that pepper her thighs. She thinks for a moment that she could gave turned off the ceiling fan circling over top of them, but feared she might burn up if it wasn’t for the white blades blowing on her crown of hair going every which way on the pillow. 

          She ignores how right he is - that she’s never been this vulnerable with him before, but instead rolls her eyelids shut to feel him really delve into her - opening his mouth and pressing his tongue to her flat. This is just what she needed, her favorite person trying something new and succeeding at it. 

            For someone that’s never given head, he was pulling it off. He was going to ruin her.

           Glancing down at the yellow glow of the lamp illuminating the right side of his face, Jesse curled her fingers into his plush head of hair once again, somewhere between heaven and hell with no real knowledge of the difference.

           She moans at his lips wrapping around her, the suction to her lower region and the way his thumbs dig into her skin to hold her in place. No running this time, she had no choice but to feel it all. This is what she wanted right? 

          “This feel okay?” he teases, tentatively trailing the tip of his tongue around the place she wanted most. He loved to see her eyes alight with that devilish incomprehensible lust. He was truly winging it, doing anything he’d heard from friends or watched himself late at night, anything to further her soft pants and moans tumbling out of her O shaped mouth. She was too good to be true and felt like one lucky bastard. 

           Nodding down to him she groans, wanting him latched to her. “M-more than okay just keep going.”

          He never knew it could feel so pleasurable to be the giver and not the receiver nine times out of ten. He didn’t know how selfish he’d been and the opportunities he'd missed to feel compliant and...obedient. He liked it. He loved it. He loved the position he was in - her looking down at him like the goddess she was and always had been, him crouching down at the end of the bed to devour her in the best way he could, his hair disheveled, eyes dark with hunger, hands gripping her tight.

          He lets instinct take the wheel, peppering kisses to her clit and bringing his own  hand down to slip in a finger to add extra stimulation - pleased when Jesse releases another string of curses. Fowl language huh? Wonder what she’d do if he stopped-

          “You’re such a dick-“ she tugs at his roots, rolling her hips into his mouth that savors  her now, lips slick with her wetness. She tasted good, he’d concluded. It wasn’t anything like what he imagined it would be, no, it was better. It felt better than all of the horror stories he’d made up in his head. He’s sure if he wanted to - he could stay right down between her legs for hours -- until his lips were sore and his tongue tired. Stopping wasn’t an option. Not when she’s been waiting so long, fantasized too often. She huffs out again “Thought you’ve never done this before.”

            That must be a good sign, right?

           “Never,” he slurps at her, shaking his head and groaning into her core. He felt the slickness of her on his cheeks now. Bowing down to eat her out was harder than it looked, especially with back problems as it was. 

            Focused and drunk on Jesse’s gentle hip thrust into his mouth he hugs her thighs and stands upright, just off the edge of the bed, bringing her lower half up in the air with him. He can feel her trembling now, wide eyes gleaming at him with surprise and delight at the new and better position.

            She was losing it. She’d had him compliant at first, her soft-hearted boyfriend trying something new...but damn he was tugging the ropes from between her fingers and leading her to a path less traveled. Quick learner he was.

           “Grayson put me down! Have you lost your mind?” Jesse squealed, grinning at his closed eyes and moving lips, deaf to her antics. She was expected something quick, maybe even simple, but him switching up positions was not in the game plan as great as it was. 

           She could see it now, the guy that was always hiding just beneath the surface. She could see how her sounds urged him on and made him try harder. She could see his arms shaking from the weight of her legs and the effort it took to hold her pussy as close to him as he could. She could feel the heavy breath fanning out across her pelvis from his nose. She could feel the tickle of his hair dangling down and whispering across the skin of her stomach. She could feel that same ball of fire seated in her stomach slip lower and lower with each passing second - until the words that fell out of her mouth were nothing but strings of profanity would make a sinner blush.

             It was going to sear her in half, that fucking ball of fire. Hot lava stirring up a flood she couldn’t stop. It was splitting her in half just as his digits were now, pumping into her hard and fast, curling at his knuckles. His rings gleam from the yellow lamp-light and shock her when they touch her dewy skin. She had lost all sense of control.

            Hearing his own moans, hearing how desperate he was to keep eating her pussy and make her feel better than anyone had, got her inching towards the edge. It was a low kind of growl itching at his throat.

            The taste of her blurred his senses, the soft smell of her making his mind spin out of control, the tightening walls of her cunt around his fingers fucking her fast, the light sheen of sweat that glowed in the dim light of his room - he was a madman with no direction but forward. He had to keep going, for stopping would surely break them both. He would love to tease her, but knew if he stopped one more time she would kill him in a heartbeat. 

          “Open your fucking eyes and watch me.” He barked down to her, stopping only for a moment to glare at her. His fingers continued their fast paced in and out, in and out, in and out.

                         He’d figured if he was going to take it all the way, he needed to pull every string. Needed to pull out the nasty daydreams and make them a reality. This is something he would have for keeps. Something he’d want to do over and over, something he couldn’t wait to do again. Something he’d want to remember. 

          Peeling her eyes open she sobbed at the sight of him spitting into her pussy with a smile, staring at her darkly. Light eyes blacked into pits he ruined her through and through. He had to be lying, he just had to be.

          “Fast learner,” Grayson sneers, leaning forward to smear his saliva around her slick folds, arms circling her midsection to hold her close again.

           “ Fuckfuckfuckfuck- keep fu- keep going!” Jesse begs, barely holding on to the light threatening to slip away into the fire burning her up. “Doing so good Gray, so fucking good.”

             She had discovered soon in the relationship and the minimal sexual acts they’d indulged in that Grayson was a man that adored praise. He wanted someone to tell him how good he was doing, even if he already knew it. He wanted someone to look him in the eyes just as she was doing now and watch him succeed. He wanted complete undivided attention, verbal acknowledgment. 

              He sucked at her still, sliding his tongue into her quickly then — remembering someone in a poorly shot amateur porn video did the same to the tatted up blonde he was practically fucking to death, and hoped it would have the same effect on his beautiful princess begging for him to keep going. He kept note while he watched the video, knowing one day he would be standing where he is now relishing in the gold mine that belonged to him. He fucker her with his tongue, humming into her cunt for the added stimulation. 

               Fuck all she was the end of him. “Pretty pussy all wet for me, yeah? Want to cum? Bet you doubt me huh? Thought I wouldn’t do you right…”

               He chucked at the vigorous nodding of her head, the eyes rolling in the back of her head, the hand that leaves his hip to pull at her own hair. Her eyes squeezing shut in panic now that she feels the tip of the iceberg coming up fast. 

               “Don’t even know how crazy you drive me, how long I’ve wanted to do this to you.”

               Hearing him admit it only made her thighs quiver against his strong arms, only made her want more, made her creep dangerously close to the edge she was for once in her life afraid to fall off of. The crash into the sea would be the biggest shock she’s ever had. Jesse tried to focus on her breathing, trading the heaving for squealing when he dipped his tongue in her entrance to give her something to fantasize about. She’d never had someone tongue fuck her, let alone stair into her soul while they did it. 

              Fuck he was good. Too fucking good.

             “Baby you have t-to slow down,” she warns, the big splash terrifying and so close. He was a wicked man for doing just the opposite, spreading her legs wider and shaking his head against her again, eyes squeezed shut like he knew what would happen in only a few seconds.

               “Grayson step back,” she tried to warn more firmly, afraid of the unfamiliar feeling of something new about to happen, embarrassed already but too worked up to stop it. “Shit - Grayson step back!”

                And there it was, the strongest orgasm she’d ever had and certainly the wettest. Her release soaked the bed beneath, sheets spotted with her arousal and breath stolen from her lungs. She’s not sure when Grayson had dropped her, or whether her convulsing body wiggled out of his grasp during the black out she’d just had. She was spread on the bed in her own mess, her chest flushed, damp hair stuck to her forehead in waves, vision blurred, eyelids drooping in exhaustion, hand somehow in Graysons.

              He’s there then. He’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, his hand a ghost on her forehead brushing away those tendrils of hair, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles with tender care, his lips smoothing the furrow of her brows. Grayson is lifting her without a word, caging her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and smoothing her head against his chest to feel the weight of her there - just to feel the heat of her consume him.

              “Holy fuck,” she breathes, spent. 

              “I hope it wasn’t too much,” he whispers into her hair, hand smoothing over the locks while rocking her around the room, mind racing with every image of what he’d just done and the feeling of complete bliss flooding his body.

                He’s almost worried she fell asleep in his arms until he feels the shaking he can only assume is laughter, before she’s hugging him tighter. “Idiot. I can’t believe you’ve never done that. And I can’t believe I’m this tired. Feel like a rookie.”

               “Guess I passed the test then?”

               “Flying colors.”

                Jesse nuzzles in as far as she can, tucking in her arms against his chest and letting the state of Nirvana wash over her. With a sigh Jesse thinks over the shocking events of her boyfriend being 100% nastier than she’d initially thought — not that she’s complaining.

               She barely remembers Grayson running a bath, or setting her in the steaming tub with a kiss, or waiting for him to strip the bed with a giddiness sitting in his chest at all that they’d done, barely remembers him joining her in the tub and catching soap in the calm of his hand to smith the suds over her post-sex body. That’s the only way she would describe herself in the moment, her skin felt sensitive to the touch, sparks still shooting through her with the feeling of his hands on her.

             What Jesse does remember is laying with Grayson in a bed freshly made, arm draped over his stomach, head resting against his arm, lips peppering kisses against his chest randomly through-out the night. She remembers the feeling of adoration and understanding. What they’d done was both the most foul thing she’d ever done, but also the most liberating and beautiful experience. To lose yourself in another person in such a way that you’re utterly consumed by them was...foreign to the pair laying together in the still of the night.

              Jesse waited until Grayson was softly snoring until she said the only thing she’d never had the guts to tell him in the months they’d been dating. He’d been waiting on it patiently. It was different between friends, but it meant so much more when you don't want to say it to anyone else for the rest of your life. The moment she says it, she can’t ever take it back. Maybe that’s why she chooses the early hours of the morning to lean in and press her lips against his feather soft, blinking back the mist clouding her vision. 

              “Don’t know if you could tell...but I'm kind of in love with you...so just be patient with me please I’m trying for you.”

              Maybe she would get the guts one day to say the words while he’s awake, maybe face to face or with the lights off because she has some kind of comfort in the dark, or maybe it would slip out on accident. In any way that it happens, she hopes he will smile. She hopes that he knows how insanely incandescently happy he makes her each and every day, and how honored she feels that she got to experience another first with him.She hopes he will be comforted that his feelings are 100% reciprocated. She hopes that she gets to see that beautiful  smile he wears on special occasions -- the true smile that he doesn't show too often. For now she presses her lips to his once again, smiling softly as the slow ride and fall of his chest, arm holding her close, the ring she won him out of a shitty machine in the corner of a tattoo shop he’d stopped into on a whim secured on a thin chain around his neck, and the fluttering of his eyelashes while he dreamed. 

[alvfr]

Bittersweet Hotch

Gif by the lovely @dudeitiskarev​ 

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+, minors DNI Words: 3.9K (look at me writing something shorter than 15k, huh?) Warning: Semi-public sex. Anal play (fem receiving). Love. Description: A short version of Hotch's POV from Chapter 1 of Bittersweet ("Accidents" Part 5). Link to the full series in my masterlist - will probably make most sense if you’ve read those first 💕

(Warning: Very NSFW below the cut! 18+)

Bittersweet Hotch 

There were a lot of reasons why Aaron loved you.

The bigger things, of course, such as your intelligence, your sharp humor, and your heart. Your unbridled compassion for the whole world, however undeserving at times, where Aaron occasionally filed himself in the latter category. Just occasionally though, not all the time anymore. Not after you had made it so blatantly clear how good you thought he was and he found himself striving to live up to those expectations. Surprisingly, it worked.

So yes, the bigger things were almost self-explanatory for why he loved you. Why anyone would love you, really, if they got the chance. Then there were all the little things. Small drops accumulating all the time, like water on a mountainside patiently eroding the seemingly impenetrable rock. One drop after the other until the dam broke and Aaron finally realized he loved you, even if he had done it for some time already. How you hummed to yourself if you thought no one was around, how you always stretched right after waking up, and how you lit up at the sight of him without noticing it yourself.

It was subtle, of course, especially when you were at work. But after Morgan had deftly pointed it out to Aaron — who had asked how the infamous bet started — it was impossible to ignore. He could see how other people on the team had picked up on it. It sometimes made it unbearable to maintain the rigid professionalism you had agreed on at work because now Aaron noticed it all the time. Whenever you walked into a room, you would seek him out first. A small glance, maybe a split second at most, but always there. At home, in more relaxed surroundings, you dropped your guard down further and he could see how your pupils dilated when you caught his eye. And lately, you got that small smile on your lips too, a smile that had Aaron convinced he would do absolutely anything for you.

It was that smile of yours that had made him bold enough to say those three words for the first time back at his kitchen. After that unsub clocked you with a two-by-four and Aaron had to physically restrain himself from beating up a local SWAT officer. Your reaction to those three words had not been as he hoped for, at least not at first, but it had improved quickly. He had come to realize that although you were — like him — keenly intelligent and —also like him — profiled people for a living, you were just as stupid as he was when it came to love. Just as human and vulnerable. There was something incredibly reassuring about that and in all honesty, it just made him love you more.

It meant he had to work harder though, to make you realize how serious he was about this. About this relationship, about you. This promotion they offered you, the one that forced him to squash down his selfish desires to keep you close at all times, was a good thing. It was good for you, and where he had let Haley play the second fiddle in favor of his career and his goals, he was not going to subject you to the same. He could be supportive — he wanted to be supportive — and if that meant sacrifices on his part, so be it. Hopefully, you’d realize he was serious about both this relationship, but also that he took you seriously. As a person, a partner, and a profiler.

The forced hierarchy from your jobs should not and would not seep into any other areas of your lives together.

All of these things had been clear in his mind when you stormed into his office earlier, kicking the door shut, and demanding answers. He loved that about you too. How brazen you could be and that you were comfortable enough around him now to be brazen, even here. Time had gone by quickly, but he could recall just like yesterday when he had held an impromptu performance review here in his office. When he had tried — in vain — to lay down some boundaries, but still found himself unable to say outright that this couldn’t happen. You and him? Impossible for so many reasons. The age difference, your jobs, his son — so many obstacles that had been swept away by those steady drops of water. Things he eventually forgot were obstacles at all unless someone pointed it out for him.

And as he watched you chew your bottom lip raw — so obviously conflicted about this offer and so obviously looking for some kind of permission from him to take it — he realized he would do anything for you. Maybe that was why it had happened? He certainly hadn’t planned it, but seeing your wet eyes after he asked you to move in — again, not the reaction he planned for — he had acted on instinct. Anything to turn that confusion into something simpler.

It started as a kiss. Just a simple gesture of affection and a physical distraction. And perhaps your boldness had rubbed off on him or all those whispered confessions how you fantasized about being bent over his desk played a part, but the next thing he knew, he had pushed his hand up the skirt of your dress. By then it was too late to back down. The way your breath hitched when his fingers brushed against the silken part of your inner thigh skipped through both ears and brain and lodged straight into his libido. And then that perfect mouth of yours had dropped open when he ran his finger against the thin material of your underwear. Using his trigger finger to carve out that well-defined slit marking the entrance to something downright holy — he couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to, and despite your half-hearted pleas, you didn’t want him to stop either.

You hadn’t been wet to start with, but it took seconds before he felt the fabric dampen. Blood rushing to swell your lips and that tight bundle of nerves he loved to rub, suck, and bite when the occasion called for it. He thought he could tell the difference with each of your heartbeats and he’ll admit he got lost in the moment.

A calculated risk on many levels, but when you shuddered and tightened around his fingers — two of them pumping into you with sloppy wet sounds — he knew he would have come in his pants if he’d been twenty years younger. Sometimes he hated that he was noticeably older than you, other times he silently thought it gave him the opportunity to show you the sexual experiences you deserved. He had another kind of patience now than when he was young, another kind of appreciation for giving as well as receiving pleasure, and let’s face it, another kind of stamina. Not necessarily better, but different.

The sight of you fully dressed, knees knocking against his where he caged you in the chair, and with a glow to your cheeks would forever be burned into his retina. He’d never able to see anyone sit in that chair again without remembering this moment and he was unable to decide whether or not that was a good thing.

It was at least part of the reason why he stayed hard — rock hard, so uncomfortably strained against the stretchy materials of his boxers — even while driving to the city. Trying and wanting to make good on his offer for lunch. And he could smell the faintest wafts of your juices on his fingers and that didn’t help one bit. For a second he had been tempted to let you help him as you had offered — unzip and lean back as far as possible in the seat, pushing your head down and feeling the rasp of your teeth when he pushed too hard at one point. No. He had tried, he told himself, to make this about you. All about you.

There was still a limit to his willpower.

“Aaron,” you had said when the car was parked, the forest empty besides the two of you. As if nothing really existed outside the two of you. Your lips were swollen from his kiss where you leaned halfway over the console. Your eyes were heavy-lidded and focused on him, pinning him in place with your unbridled sincerity. “You just need to decide if you want me to suck your dick or not before you fuck me.”

It took less than a minute before he was shoving his dick into your wet and open cunt where you laid splayed over the passenger seat in the SUV. The door stood wide open to allow him access to you, with the chill of the Virginia forest whispering across the bare skin of his thighs and yours alike. Outdoors, in the middle of the day, when you both were supposed to be at work and not fucking like two teenagers at the end of a forest road. You with that fancy dress rucked up to your midriff, and him with his pants and boxers nestled around his ankles. He didn’t even bother stepping out of them, working with what he had and shoving himself into you through the car door.

The agent and the lawyer in him mumbled something vague about indecent exposure, but drowned out at the sight of you throwing your head back when he snapped his hips forward, your wet open lips pressed against and around him. You weren’t even worried. Another part he loved about you. Spontaneous, risk-taker, daredevil — call it whatever the hell you wanted, but he loved it. It. You. He loved you.

It always felt like the first time when he pushed into you, that heated way you almost sucked him in, squeezing around his dick like a tight fist. Pure velvet fire consuming his dick, and his fingers scrambled for hold, searching for those soft parts of your body that yielded to his grip. He could feel your insides tighten whenever he hit a particularly good point and he kept the pace brutal because you asked him to. At least he thought you did — you at least swore incessantly and it was hard to tell the fuck me’s from the ordinary fuck’s. You always swore like this when you didn’t have to be quiet — and sometimes even then — and it was all breathless and beautiful and he strived to give you everything you wanted. Everything he had.

He loved the way he could see your breasts bounce even under that tight dress he had all but tricked you into wearing today. And when you had to turn around, he loved the way your ass jiggled every time he thrust into you. He loved the way his fingers fit on your body, how pliant it was, somehow always making room for him — be it his fingers, his dick, or his tongue.

You made a spectacular sight and he didn’t know where to focus. On the faint reflection in the window on the other side where he could see your eyes tightly closed and mouth hanging open. On the curve of your waist, flaring up to your hips where his hands held you. On the ripple passing through your thighs and ass cheeks every time he went all in so his balls smacked against your undoubtedly swollen clit. Or on your puffy wet lips gripping around his dick in rhythm to his hips snapping forward, a clear mirror of how your other lips looked like when they locked around his cock.

His mind felt blank and he was aware he was saying something. Trying and failing to put his thoughts into words, mostly groaning your name and saying how beautiful you were over and over again. Because you were. Jesus Christ, you were. It was partially as a distraction for himself when he reached around to find your clit — two fingers, pulling the hood back a fraction so he could move better around it — because he wanted to fill you up now.

He wanted to pump you so full of his cum you’d feel it for the rest of the day. It was a little caveman-ish, but he was done trying to deny he loved seeing his white spend pool out of your hole. A claim, a mark, an undeniable sign of where he’d been. Of what you’d done together and how you’d let him use your pussy. The only thing that could compare was seeing it in your mouth, a small pearly shimmer of something that was his gliding over your tongue.

This distraction wasn’t working. Fuck. Aaron felt the drops of sweat run down his back — despite all his cardio, his dress shirts were tight and warm now with the brutal pace he’d set. God, you were exquisite. Knees spread wide on the seat, bottom of your ass resting on your ankles on either side of his thighs. Wide-open and fucking gorgeous. He wanted to make you come around his dick again. He needed to make you come around his dick again. To feel what only his fingers felt earlier, how you’d squeeze and pulsate and buck your hips to get deeper and more. Fuck.

His tie hung loosely over your back and occasionally censored you from his view. Breathing hard, Aaron flung it away and — acting on some kind of instinct or just pure debauchery — he pooled spit in his mouth and let it drop down so it hit that perfect little asshole of yours. You obviously felt it — he heard both a gasp and had to increase his grip so you wouldn’t fly right off his dick, but most of all he saw how you tightened and that little asshole became momentarily smaller. Fucking exquisite. He checked your reflection in the window, saw the full-on mask of pleasure, and more blood left his head to pump into his dick so he wondered if you would feel it thump inside of you.

He could debate how good of a distraction it was, but at least the sight of his spit running between your cheeks kept his focus from how his dick felt in your pussy. Aaron knew he was good at multi-tasking, but this was almost too much. Remembering to keep fingering your clit — aided by how you squirmed against his hand — and trying to keep a steady pace with his dick — again aided by how you also pushed back to meet his thrusts — and wetting his thumb thoroughly before gliding it over your asshole.

Worth it, he thought vaguely, based on those positively angelic sounds you made. Even with how you swore, it sounded like gospel. He barely remembered to ask if it was okay —if it was good, if this was accepted —so mesmerized at the sight. He had done this before — always carefully, always asking for permission — not really for any other reason that in some positions, it felt like your body offered it to him. And you liked it and where Aaron hadn’t had any particular fantasies about it before, it struck that caveman-gene in him again that this was another hole to fill with his cum. Another part of you to claim in the most depraved way possible.

Maybe down the line, but so far you had never gone further than what he did right now. Rubbing a slick finger around that tight little ring he couldn’t imagine fitting even his pinky inside. It took some willpower to let his hand follow the rhythm of your body — sometimes you pushed back against his dick so hard his finger would have poked into you whether you wanted it to or not — but he wanted this to be good for you. Needed this to be good for you.

But when you told him to fuck you, and rub your clit, and don’t stop, he wasn’t going to question it.

He groaned, mostly because of how you squeezed your pussy around his dick — again like a tight fist that you might as well have sucker-punched him with — as he pushed the very tip of his thumb into your ass. Tight. Hot. Only wet because of his spit, but based on your sounds, not exactly painful. He rubbed your clit harder, hoping to ease any discomfort there was or at least distract from it, and worked his thumb gently around. A vision of his thumb buried down to the hilt floated across his mind. Another way to grip you, using your ass as a balance hole to pull you back onto his dick, and he closed his eyes while involuntarily working your clit harder as if he could transfer some of his quickly approaching climax into you.

Another time, he reminded himself and tried to focus on your words. That didn’t help. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Aaron, please don’t stop. And in the same breath, you told him to come inside you — to fill you up — and that you were moving in with him and you wanted him to keep going and he couldn’t.

On your instructions, his thumb was inside to the first knuckle and he could feel himself now, could feel his dick where he was balls-deep inside of you. The further his thumb went in, the easier it got too, almost like you were sucking him in and he tried to remember to wiggle it around, loosening you up some, wanting this to feel good for you. But you were so tight and wet and you weren’t happy with how he’d slowed his pace on anything because you obviously wanted more.

He kept rubbing your wet little clit, almost on auto-pilot, but had to stop thrusting before he came before you. Did you have any idea of how good you felt? On his dick like this? Gushing wet and spread open and still so fucking tight? The slick sounds of his fingers on your clit drowned in your breathy pleas for him to keep going.

The words made it through the haze in Aaron’s mind, where all he could see was where the two of you were joined. Yes, he could do the fucking laundry. Yes, in his apartment. Yes, you were moving in. Yes, you were close to coming and you sounded so desperate he had to try. His wrist burned from circling your clit at the awkward angle, but he’d wear a wrist brace for the rest of the week if that meant feeling you lose yourself to a climax around him.

But he was so close. His balls tight and throbbing, bursting with cum he wanted to shoot inside of you. Wanted to watch it ooze out of your swollen glistening cunt afterward, use his fingers to push it back in, and then let you lick them clean. He wanted to do all of that. But not before you came first.

Almost holding his breath, he pulled his dick out with a lewd squelch, fighting to keep the rhythm on your clit even though you were squirming and swaying all over the place. Both of you were so close and you shoved your hips back to meet his next thrust, and your tight, tight asshole swallowed the rest of his thumb, and thank god that made you almost scream as you came because Aaron only lasted two — three — four more thrusts into your tight, tight pussy before he followed. He felt it in his whole body, the way the dam burst, and his nerve-endings exploded as he came.

The quiet forest engulfed his loud groan, the sound of your name in his chest, and your thin whimpers of unbridled pleasure. He desperately grabbed onto your hips to steady himself, keeping you from pulling away, wanting everything pumped into you. He halfway pulled back and buried himself all the way in again and grunted your name like he had traveled ten thousand years to the past and reduced to nothing but animal instincts. His balls pulsated, shooting string after string of cum into you, more than he would have expected. Hopefully enough. Filling you up to the brim, just like you’d fucking asked for, and enough to eventually run out of you to coat that expensive lace he’d bought today.

He clutched your hips like a lifeline — like you’d clutched that folder earlier today in his office — like your pussy clutched and milked his dick. He still twitched inside of you, still on the cusp of the orgasm, and he breathed hard to counteract the light-headedness. You were so perfect for him in every way, just so tight that he could feel his own cum coat around his dick in the limited space.

I love you, he thought and memorized every curve and line of your back, not enough breath in his lungs to say it just yet. Slowly coming down, he massaged your hips where he had left his marks yet again. Fingerprints dug into your skin in slight bruisings, ones you seemed to appreciate. You breathed equally hard as him, but looked at him over your shoulder, so flushed and gorgeous and deserving of the world.

I love you.

It was in your eyes, your smile, and often coming out your mouth too. Not right now as you only panted slightly, but you looked at him in a way that stole his breath away all over again.

I love you.

You had looked at him like that so many times before you said it for the first time, and Aaron knew you had held back. Patience. Trust. Understanding. It was in your every move and conversation with him. He didn’t know if he had earned it, but he hadn’t lied before of how grateful he was for it. Now it was his turn, he realized, to show you the same. To adapt to your schedule and your needs like you had done for him.

Like you were doing right now when the sound of his ring tone cut through the foggy aftermath of your orgasms. Not even hesitating, you reached out for his phone — Aaron swallowed a grunt when the movement pulled his dick from your gushing hole — and handed him both phone and some wet wipes. You had never tried to compete with either the job or Jack, and Aaron loved you for that too. Even if he deep-down knew he should have prioritized differently at times, you had made it so he didn’t have to. You had made everything so easy. Always, so easy, because apparently you felt he was worth it.

Try as he might, he couldn’t find anything but satisfaction in your eyes now either as you watched him try to listen to Garcia. If you kept this up, he might start to think he was worth it too.

He wanted to be worth it, he realized, watching the wicked glint in your eye when you sucked his fingers clean after the call ended. Wanted to have you and this and everything forever.

There were many reasons why Aaron loved you, but most of all because you had made him believe he could love again at all.

..

..

A/N: First time writing this "you"-style from Hotch's POV and looking for feedback. If it's confusing or if it’s unclear who’s POV it is. Also first time writing smut from a guy’s perspective and accepting feedback on that as well 🥰

As always, I strive to be inclusive of my reader-inserts, so please let me know if any descriptions or phrases needs changing.

Remember to reblog if you liked it! And that comments feed my creativity just as much as caffeine 💕

[amorgansgal]

We Are Made One with What We Touch and See

This was written for the @rdrbigbang​ and I had the great pleasure to work with @merryandrewsworld who has made some gorgeous artwork, and has been a really lovely person to talk to and bounce ideas off :D It was a wonderful experience and I loved writing this piece. You can read it on Ao3 as well.

Summary: Molly finds her life increasingly frustrating. She works most days in the Linden Bar and her love life with Dutch is disappointing at best and toxic at worse. She spends her days angry and alone, until Arthur Morgan and Micah Bell wander into Dutch's bar with a new friend of theirs who captures her attention.

Warnings: Implied sexual content. Alcohol.

Molly slammed the bottles into the small fridge behind the bar. She was clenching her jaw tightly and knew her curly red hair was already escaping the bun she had put it into this morning. She couldn’t believe Dutch had asked her again to open up, even though she had closed the bar the night before. Karen had called in sick, but Molly had a sneaking suspicion that the woman was actually out at one of her precious film auditions.

She straightened up and stretched her back. She wasn’t even sure how she could put on a smile and joke around with the customers, when she felt so sour, tired and pissed off. The other girls who worked at the Linden Bar seemed to think that her dating Dutch meant she was favoured and got to slack off while he was around. It couldn’t be further from the truth. Living and working with him meant he was all too aware of her schedule; she couldn’t pretend to be busy or have plans when he demanded she cover a shift.

She had previously complained to Karen about it, but there hadn’t exactly been any sympathy. ‘Well… they do say don’t shit where you eat.’

The Linden bar was quiet. Unsurprising, it was still early afternoon and the regulars wouldn’t make an appearance until later. She thought about wiping down the leather sofas and chairs. She was meant to do that. But why even bother? Half the time Sean spilt shit on them anyway.

She sighed irritably, cleaning after a bunch of men was hardly what she had envisioned her life would be like. But then she didn’t really have any other plans. She rested on the bar and tried to think about what other jobs she could do. She had never really been one for sitting in an office, but then she couldn’t really say she was a people person or wanted to work behind a bar again if she could help it.

She had won a few writing competitions while at college and her teacher had always said she had a natural gift with words, but apart from ‘No, I’m not serving you’ and ‘You can fuck right off’ she didn’t get much chance to use them! Perhaps she should write again. It didn’t necessarily have to be anything great or Shakespearian, but it could be a good way to express how she felt and what she was thinking.

Then again… maybe not. Last time Dutch had found one of her poems he had been insulted by it. It wasn’t even fucking about him, but of course he had to make it about him. After he had calmed down, she had managed to explain it was about an ex and she had written it while dating the ex. But that seemed to piss him off more and he demanded to know why she wasn’t writing about him! As though everything she did had to involve him to some extent.

The door to the bar swung open and Molly scowled. ‘We’re not open, so you can-!’

But when Arthur stepped into the bar and gave her a quick smile, she rolled her eyes and gestured to the bar seats. ‘Fine. But I’m not serving whiskey at this time.’

‘Wouldn’ expect you to,’ he replied. The dark leather jacket he always wore crinkled as he sat down. ‘’specially with this troublesome lot.’ He gave a quick nod towards the doorway again and Molly audibly sighed as Micah walked in, a mocking smile on his lips. Just behind Micah she could see another person strolling into the room and Molly sucked in her cheeks, she sincerely hoped the rest of the gang was not just going to turn up and make her life harder!

‘Now, darlin’, that ain’t a way to treat a paying customer.’ Micah smirked.

‘Last time you were here Dutch covered your tab, if I remember correctly,’ Molly shot back.

Micah raised his hands defensively. ‘I paid the man back. I know when to pay my dues.’ He sat down next to Arthur and gave the man’s knee a squeeze. Arthur shifted his leg, but the smile on his lips gave him away.

Molly turned her attention to the other person who was with them and found herself somewhat lost for words as she took in the tall, blonde woman who had sat down silently. The woman’s sharp brown eyes were fixed on Molly. Her forehead was pinched in a fierce scowl highlighting a small red scratch above one of her eyebrows.

Molly looked away quickly, somewhat embarrassed that she had been appraising the woman so closely and that the thought of pressing her hand against the woman’s cheek and wiping away her frown had been so appealing.

‘Oh yeah, Molly this is Sadie. Sadie Adler,’ Arthur said, tearing away his gaze from Micah. ‘Sadie, this is Molly.’

‘You don’ piss her off too much sometimes she’ll even serve your drinks with a smile,’ Micah said.

‘You’re lucky I serve you drinks at all, Micah.’ Molly muttered, then turned back to Sadie. ‘Nice to meet you. What you doing running around with these two then?’

‘I’m a bounty hunter,’ Sadie replied coolly, her voice was husky and rough. Molly wondered if it was due to a smoker’s habit or just the way the woman spoke naturally.

‘What can I get you then?’

‘Whiskey?’ Sadie smirked.

Molly reached down to the fridge and pulled out two beers for Micah and Arthur. She wiped her hands on a towel and grinned at Sadie. ‘For you, I’ll make an exception!’

‘Glad to hear it,’ Sadie nodded and accepted the glass of whiskey that Molly had poured for her. Molly tried to look anywhere else as Sadie swallowed back the hard liquor and placed the glass back down on the bar. She barely heard Micah’s griping.

‘Bounty hunting, that must be exciting?’ Molly said as she refilled Sadie’s glass. This time Sadie seemed content to sip it.

‘Mm-hm, can be. Can be dangerous. Can be boring, especially if I’m chasing someone down who’s just skipped on a bill or something. Now bartending, that must be exciting!’ Her eyebrow quirked upwards and Molly snorted.

‘Yeah, I love nothing more than cleaning up after these boys,’ Molly jabbed a thumb towards Arthur and Micah.

Sadie let out a short huff of laughter. ‘Well then, I don’t think our jobs are that different!’

‘Sure, pouring this lot drinks is exactly the same!’

Sadie pulled out some money from a wallet and passed it over to Molly. ‘Buy one for yourself, think I’m going to like talking to you.’

‘Tha’ makes a change,’ Arthur muttered sarcastically, and was treated to an elbow to the ribs from Sadie.

Micah’s eyes lit up as Molly put the money in the till. ‘You know what Dutch says-’

‘What? And you’re going to run off and tell him?’ Molly scowled.

Micah raised his hands. ‘I’m just sayin’, you ain’t meant to-’

‘Well, it’s none of your business whether I do or don’t!’ she shot back. She was so goddamn sick of Dutch controlling everything she did, even when he wasn’t around one of his lackeys was watching her every move.

‘Micah, why don’t you and I head out for a smoke, and leave the ladies to talk?’ Arthur suggested. For a moment it looked like Micah might refuse, but he then got up and sloped off the bar stool.

‘Fine, Morgan.’

Arthur smiled at Molly and gave her a quick wink, before he and Micah disappeared through the back door. Molly poured Sadie another drink, then grabbed a glass of her own and served herself. Sadie raised her glass and Molly carefully tapped it with her own. She threw back the liquor feeling the sharp, hot burn against her throat and smiling as the warmth rushed through her.

‘Guess they’ll be a while smoking.’ Sadie smirked.

‘Surprising how long a cigarette can take.’ Molly found herself grinning at the woman.

Sadie shifted in her seat and a few loose strands of her hair rested on her cheek. That same temptation to brush away the blonde hair almost overwhelmed Molly and she found herself leaning heavily on the bar, as though she would reach over to do so.

She quickly rested her cheek on her hand instead, though realised that may not have been the best idea as Sadie’s eyes drifted down to her chest. Molly thought about getting back up, but found she quite liked how the woman’s dark gaze ran over her body. It had been a long time since anyone had really looked at Molly with anything akin to desire.

‘So, how long you known Arthur?’ Molly asked.

‘Few weeks, he helped me out of a tight spot.’

‘Oh?’

‘Sometimes bounties don’t want to come quietly.’ Sadie grinned and finished off the whiskey in her glass. ‘How long have you known Arthur?’

‘Long enough, he’s been a friend of Dutch’s for… well, think forever. They knew each before I started… started dating Dutch.’

‘Ooh, dating the owner, huh?’

‘Don’t.’ Molly refilled her glass. She wasn’t quite sure if Sadie would be paying for all this whiskey, but considering the woman had made her feel better she was quite happy to empty all the shelves here.

‘So it ain’t going well?’

‘It’s going fine, it’s just…’ Molly fiddled with the cap on the bottle and looked down at the bar, wiping away a few drops of condensation from the dark wood. She looked back up to find Sadie watching her intently. She grabbed the bottle and put it back behind the bar.

‘Well?’ Sadie asked.

‘I… I don’t think I should be talking about that kind of thing right now… I mean, you don’t want to hear about that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you probably got better things to do than listen to me complain.’

Sadie’s smirk resumed its place and she got up from the barstool. ‘True, but I think you could also do better things.’

‘Like what?’

‘Come for a ride with me, it’ll clear your head.’

Molly sighed and leaned back. ‘Sure, the best thing I can do is piss off Dutch and leave the bar unattended. Besides, who’s going to let those fools back in?’

Sadie shrugged. ‘They’ll figure it out.’ She leaned over the bar and offered a hand. ‘Come on. Who’s going to visit a bar in the early afternoon?’

‘You’d be surprised,’ Molly muttered.

‘Come on, twenty minutes, they won’t even realise you’re gone.’

‘Why do you want me to go so badly?’

‘Because you look goddamn miserable and because this bar is kind of shitty, I’ll take you to a better one.’

‘I thought you said we would be gone for just twenty minutes.’

‘Why you planning on spending longer with me?’ Sadie grinned.

‘No… I… well… a drink takes longer than twenty minutes.’

‘Does it?’

‘A good one at any rate,’ Molly smiled and looked down at her boots. She glanced back up at Sadie, who reached her hand over to Molly once more. To Molly’s own surprise she found herself placing her hand into Sadie’s and letting herself be guided out of the bar. The blonde-haired woman smiled and wrapped an arm around Molly’s waist. Molly averted her eyes and felt her cheeks warm with a heady blush. ‘Least let me lock up.’

‘Sure, I’ll wait for you outside.’

Even as Molly locked the backdoor, the cash register and back office she found herself wondering what the hell she was doing. How could she be so damn stupid? This woman had barely said two words to her and had already convinced her to leave the bar and run off to God knows where! Hell, she had locked Arthur and Micah out, they would have to scale the fences if they wanted to escape. Even when Arthur would let things slide, Micah seemed to get some malicious enjoyment for tattling on her. But if there had ever been a time for saying ‘Fuck it!’ it was now.

***

The sense of freedom she got with her arms wrapped tightly around Sadie’s waist, her chest pressed against the leather jacket and feeling the sharp, icy cold wind rushing through Molly’s hair was something she hadn’t even realised she wanted until she was on Sadie’s bike.

By the time they finished at a bar on the other side of town, it was late in the evening, and Molly was in no doubt that she probably had a hundred calls and texts from Dutch. But she’d done the wild thing and switched off her phone.

They’d drunk far too much and then Sadie insisted she was starving and took them to a smoky little food truck that apparently sold the best BBQ food. Sadie brought them both ribs and fries covered in cheese, jalapeños and crispy onions.

For a very brief moment Molly looked at the dark crimson nail polish on her fingers and remembered how Dutch hated it when her hands got wrinkled from washing up the glasses. He was always insistent she kept her hands soft and clean. Sadie’s were rough, her nails short and clear of any varnish. When the woman pulled her from the bar, she had grabbed Molly’s hand and held onto it tightly with long, strong fingers.

‘Go on, we have napkins,’ Sadie urged her.

‘Shouldn’t really…’

‘You shouldn’t have drunk all that whiskey with me, yet here we are!’ Sadie smirked and then tore a strip of meat off the barbequed rib.

***

They drove up to the hill that overlooked the town. The only noise they could really hear was the thrumming, distant roar that came from the highway and the quiet chirps of crickets. The moon rose overhead, a thin slither of silver against the dark night sky. Molly breathed out quietly, it was an excited, shaky breath. She hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. When was the last time she felt free, that she felt she could move her body without it being judged or resented?

Sadie’s hand slipped around her waist, pulling her back slightly from the edge of the cliff. Molly turned her head. She wasn’t sure when and how and why it happened, but suddenly Sadie’s mouth was on her own, her breath heavy and desperate, the hand on Molly’s waist pulled her closer to Sadie and the other hand was clenched amongst Molly’s curls. She found herself braver and bolder, nipping at Sadie’s bottom lip until Molly’s tongue slipped into Sadie’s mouth. A fierce taste of mint, it was almost harsher than any gum or mints that Molly had ever tasted, marred with the slight tangy savouriness of the BBQ. Molly moaned into the kiss, wanting more, but a little afraid to ask for it. There wouldn’t be any going back after that. No going back to her old life, no return to Dutch or the Linden Bar.

***

Sadie’s fingers softly stroked along Molly’s back, as though mapping her out. Molly turned her head and smiled as she felt Sadie’s fingers trace the letters of her tattoo.

‘Didn’t see this earlier,’ Sadie muttered.

‘Why would you see my naked back earlier?’

‘You showed me your other one.’

‘That was on my shoulder, Sadie. Course you can see that one.’

‘We are made one with what we touch and see,’ Sadie read the words aloud. ‘Pretty, where’s it from?’

‘It’s a poem by Oscar Wilde.’

Sadie’s hand slid around Molly’s waist and found her right arm again, she ran her fingers over the tattoo that graced Molly’s wrist, a small yellow flower. ‘Think I like this one the best though.’

Molly smiled. ‘It’s a cowslip. I got it when Dutch called me a useless cow.’

‘That you certainly ain’t.’ Sadie dipped her head down and pressed a kiss against Molly’s lips. Sadie’s hands ran down her waist once more and then further down Molly’s thigh. She moaned against Sadie’s lips.

‘We can’t do it again,’ Molly murmured.

‘Why not? You got anywhere else to be?’

‘Hmm.’

Sadie took advantage of her hesitation and kissed her again, before wriggling down to her waist. ‘I think we got plenty of time.’

[myhockeyworld87]

Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 6

Word Count: 4,461

POV: Jamie’s

Warnings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Since @bnthomp256 said please, here’s part 6...hehe! Just teasing I saw all of your likes and yeses so here you guys go. Thought I’d get it out last week but it’s the start of this week. Thank you guys so much for reading this series! As always I love your feedback, your reblogs, your tags and your likes! Happy Reading!!!

Sidenote: Also (Y/NN) = Your Nickname (Y/LN) = Your Last Name

Thunder roared in the background as you stood in the foyer, while (Y/N) decided whether or not to stay at your place or brave the storm that was raging on outside. "You're right, it's silly to go over there." She finally agreed, still dripping wet from head toe from her run home and then standing out in the rain trying to get inside her house.

"I'd suggest you take a shower to warm up, but with the storm and all." She shook her head in understanding. "How about I get you another pair of my sweats?"

 "I still haven't gotten the first set back to you," she laughed and you joined her, though she could have every pair that you owned for you enjoyed seeing her in them.

 "You know where they are. I'll grab us a glass of wine to warm up with." She trotted upstairs, trying to be quick so she wouldn't make a mess all over your house, even though it was just water.

 She was back downstairs just as you set the wine down on the coffee table in the living room. "This feels so much better. Thank you." She sat down on the couch beside you. "I seem to be thanking you a lot lately." You simply blushed and took a sip of wine, hopefully hiding how you truly wanted her to be thanking you.

 "It's really nothing. So, how's Jess's thumb?"

 "Good as new, though I doubt I should be drinking this wine as I just had two glasses with her. Thank goodness, I don't have any early appointments tomorrow."

 "Taking off work already," you teased her.

 "No, apparently Fridays are easy days at the office." She took another sip of wine, as you watched her tongue sneak out across her lips to catch a drop. What you wouldn't give to be that sole little drip of wine. "I really like how this practice works, not as fast-paced as where I was before. We barely had time with our patients, which isn't the case here."

 It made you happy to hear that she liked it in Dallas, considering you were going to be here a while yourself. "Well, I hope it doesn't get too crazy once the season starts."

 "It'll be a bit tricky to get everything scheduled, but I think I've got it figured out."

 "I'm sure you will. You were always way more organized than I ever was." (Y/N) was always the one who kept you on schedule with games, homework, and of course dates, though you never forgot those. The storm seemed to worsen as a loud crack of thunder sounded and streaky lightning filled the dimly lit room. (Y/N) jumped and you chuckled. "Still afraid of storms, huh?"

 "I'm not afraid."

 Her comment only made you laugh harder. "You used to say that all the time."

 This time she laughed and then playfully hit you on the chest. "Only you would remember that, and I only hate the bad ones." Just then another roar of thunder filled the air, with more flashes of lightning. "Like this one. Could you have any more windows in this house?"

 "Here, I'll close the blinds for you." You leaned over her and grabbed the remote for the windows, pressing the buttons for them to roll down. It was only once you set the remote back down did you realize how close you were to (Y/N). Your faces only a few inches from each other. Her eyes locked with yours, her heated stare warming your body, in places that they shouldn't. You should've moved back to your spot on the couch, but you didn't. Instead, you found yourself saying, "Better?"

 A breathy "yes," was your answer, right before her hand reached up and cupped your cheek. Your skin burned from her caress and you longed to touch her back, but were too afraid that she'd retreat back to her old self if you did, so you held your breath hoping not to break the spell. It was her next words that sent your head spinning. "Kiss me, Jame." You blinked hard, unsure if you heard her right, but then she nodded at your silence, giving you that permission you didn't know you asked. "Kiss me," she whispered once more, and you didn't need to be told a third time.

 Your lips were hesitant on hers at first, just a soft brush against hers, as you were both scared and thrilled at the same time. Scared that she'd pull away and thrilled that she was the one who initiated it, not that you hadn't wanted to kiss her, you'd been dying to since first running into that day on the street. You grew bolder, adding more pressure when she didn't pull back and it reminded you so much of that first time that you'd kissed her. That had been the start of something new, and your heart had pounded so hard you thought it was going to come out of your chest. That same feeling was happening again now. While this wasn't new per se, it was a fresh start for the two of you, a chance to start again and you savored every moment of it.

 (Y/N)'s hands slid their way to your neck, where she tugged you closer to her. It was all the encouragement you needed to deepen the kiss. When you glided your tongue along her bottom lip, her mouth easily opened for you. She moaned into your mouth at that first contact, the sound shooting straight to your cock making it rock hard. You hadn't wanted a woman this bad your whole adult life. It had always been (Y/N) and always would be. You felt her body relax into the cushions of the sofa, as she drug you down on top of her. Part of you felt like this was a dream, and if it was you never wanted to wake up. Your hands shifted to glide up her shirt; your rough fingertips caressing her silky-smooth skin. She wasn't wearing a bra, must have taken it off when she'd changed into your sweats. You cupped first one breast and then the other, rolling her nipples between your thumb and forefinger. She arched her back into your hand, the action almost breaking the kiss but her lips sought yours not yet wanting to let go, just the way that you'd already decided you would never let her out of your life again.

 A sense of déjà vu hit you. The two of you making out on your parent's couch, afraid someone would walk in, only this time that wouldn't happen. It was all so familiar, yet completely new at the same time.

 Her breasts were larger than you remembered, fuller and more rounded, and you longed to take a pert nipple in your mouth to see if she would call out your name the way she used to. Yet at the same time, you found yourself backing off, afraid to take things too far, too fast. A whimper escaped her lips, as you trailed your hands to her back, to press her body close, before finally breaking the kiss. Gently, you laid her back down on the cushions, as you pulled back to just stare lovingly into her eyes. Her gaze was so intense, and you saw the same desire in them that you felt. "Don't stop, Jame…." Her voice was breathy and needy, and it took all your will power to not just strip her clothes and take her right there on the sofa. "I want you." Fuck, those three little words were almost your undoing. How many nights had you longed to hear her say that? How many times had you prayed for this exact moment? Had gone to bed with thoughts of her wanting you like this.

 "(Y/N), I…"Jesus, you wanted this so bad, but it was more than just sex. You wanted her mind, body, and soul, and you weren't sure if she wanted the same. Even though it killed you, you sat back up on the couch, bringing her with you. She was still staring at you, though there was confusion written all over her face. You felt the same internal struggle. "(Y/N), I want you too…"

 "But…"

 It was as if she could read your mind. "But I don't just want this to be for one night. I'm in this for the long haul this time. I don't want to just sleep with you tonight and have you sneak out of my bed in the morning." You could see her absorbing all your words and you grabbed her hands placing them in yours, so she could not only hear the sincerity but feel it as well. "These last couple of days have been everything and I want more of them. I don't want to fuck it up. Not that sleeping together would do that, but…" God, you were never good with words, but this was harder than you thought. "I just want you to know. I'm not going anywhere this time…and I don't want you to run away because of our past. I know I fucked up, but things are different now. I'm different and if that means waiting to be with you until we're both on the same page then that's what I'll do."

 You hoped the words you spoke all made sense to her, as you watched a myriad of emotions play across her face. She was silent for a while and the longer she was the more nervous you became. "I won't lie, Jame. I'm scared as hell that you'll hurt me again."

 "I would never…"

 She placed a finger on your lips to shush you. "I know you want to say that you never would but our past says differently. I wish I could put that all behind us and maybe I can with time. All I know is that I want to try Jamie. I want to give us a chance." An overwhelming feeling of relief washed through you at her words. All you wanted was an opportunity to show her what things could be like between the two of you. How you would love her with every fiber of your being if she'd only let you. "And Jamie," she said capturing your full attention once again. "I don't plan on running away in the middle of the night or tomorrow morning." She emphasized her words by straddling your hips. "In case you forgot, I have a late morning tomorrow." She winked at you before taking both of her hands and cupping your face as she brought her lips back down on yours. This time you were ready to fully give in to the primal urges coursing through your body. That was until your phone rang at that exact moment and she pulled back.

 "It's Jessi."

 "Tell her you'll bring me over tomorrow morning, to get my stuff." She pecked your lips quickly before letting you answer the phone.

 "Uh Jess…" you tried to speak, but (Y/N)'s lips were on your neck, causing the best kind of distraction.

 "Hey Jame, was that enough time?" (Y/N) sucked at your pulse point and you groaned slightly into the phone. "Are you two…?"

 "Umm….yes. We'll get it in the morning," you finally managed to mumble out.

 "EEEKKK. That's so exciting. I want to hear everything. Well, not everything," she rambled on a continuous stream of words, while (Y/N) slid her hands under your shirt and up your chest.

 "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Jessi." You hung up the phone, even as she was still speaking, knowing that Jessi would understand once you told her that (Y/N) was giving you a second chance. You stilled (Y/N)'s hand though when she reached your waistband and undid the button there. "Before you go any farther, I need to tell you something."

 (Y/N) sat back on your lap, making it a bit uncomfortable as your cock was pressed intimately against her, even though you were both fully clothed. "Ok."

 "I just don't want there to be any secrets if we're starting fresh." She eyed you skeptically and you hated the looked that crossed her face, that one that was afraid to trust you. "Jessi was home the entire time tonight. She just wanted to give us some time alone." You searched her expression to see if she was angry about the lie that you'd told her. It was the upturn of her lips and the little laugh that escaped them that let you know she wasn't upset.

 "I kind of figured. She seemed to be rooting for us when I was talking to her early."

 "Oh, so you were talking about me?" You teased as your hands bunched her sweatshirt up so they could settle on the bare skin at her waist.

 "Maybe…" Her cheeks turned the most adorable shade of pink and you wondered if there were other parts of her body that were blushing as well.

 "Just maybe huh?"

 She nodded her head yes, then slid her hands around your neck. "Well…if we're confessing things. I have one of my own." You pulled back slightly so you could look her straight in the eye. "I remembered the code to get in the house halfway here."

 "Oh," you said, surprised that she'd come over here on her own free will. "So, you just wanted to see me, huh?"

 Your hands ran up and down her sides caressing her skin. "Nah, I just wanted to steal some more of your sweats."

 "Stealing my clothes already?" This time your fingers tickled her sides, causing her to burst out in laughter with you joining her. "I guess I'm going to have to make you pay for them now." The more you tickled her, the louder she laughed, her body wiggling all over yours until you flipped her so her back was on the couch and you were looming over top of her. Both of you immediately stopped giggling, as you gazed into each other's eyes, the mood suddenly changing from its playful atmosphere to one of sexual desire.

 It was (Y/N) who spoke first. "I guess you better name your price then." It took you a minute to realize she was talking about the sweats, still being sassy while the sexual air between you sizzled.

 The truth of the matter was she could have anything she wanted, for she already owned your heart. "Maybe we should continue this discussion upstairs then." You looked down at her your eyes filled with both lust and love, that same feeling for her you had fourteen years ago. She wanted you as well, she had even said the words earlier, though now you could feel it in her touch and see it in her gaze. It was too soon to hope that she would return the love you so desperately longed to show her, but with time, that would come.

 You eased yourself off the couch and then leaned down to help (Y/N) up. She laced her fingers through yours as you led her to the staircase. Pausing at the base, you turned and hauled (Y/N) close to your chest before asking her, "Are you sure?" You needed her to know that things didn't have to go that far if she didn't want them to.

 "Yes Jame, I'm sure." She emphasized her point, by going up on her toes and locking her lips to yours. An overwhelming need to have her in your bed naked took over. You scooped her up under her knees and carried her up the stairs, never breaking the kiss. As soon as you crossed the threshold of your bedroom, you shut the door, effectively closing the two of you off to the rest of the world. In here is it was just you and (Y/N), nothing and no one else mattered, as you gently laid her down on the bed.

 In one swift move, you had her top removed and then you were staring down at her half-naked form. Your mouth was everywhere on her, on her lips, across her jaw, trailing down her neck, until finally, you took a taut peak into your mouth. "Mmmm," she moaned out as you paid homage to each nipple. Her hands threaded in your hair, before reaching down to pull on your t-shirt. Your mouth only left her body so you could remove the garment, and then her hands were on your chest and roaming across your back. Nails lightly raking across your skin and causing gooseflesh to rise everywhere she touched. You couldn't get enough of her. Knew that if you spent the rest of your life with her, it would never be long enough.

 Lips ghosting down her abdomen, you kissed her right above the waistband of your borrowed sweats, as memories of your first and only time with her started to seep back into your brain. Your cock felt like that sixteen-year-old boy again, ready to explode at any minute, though just like back then, you knew you needed to make it good for her. Her hips lifted as you pulled the sweats off her body, taking the tiny lace thong with them so that she lay there bare for you. She was more beautiful now than she had been at sixteen, if that was even possible. Back then she'd been on the cusp of becoming a woman; now, she was fully there. All soft and supple, with curves in all the right places. She was literally a man's fantasy come to life, and she was yours. "You're so damn beautiful," you breathed out, and a blush rose to her cheeks at your compliment. You wanted to tell her that she was more gorgeous today than back then, but didn't need the ghosts of your past haunting your present. They had no place in this room. Instead, you spread her legs, your hands running up and down her calves and thighs before your mouth followed their path. It all led to that one spot, the place you longed to bury yourself deep inside, but not quite yet. Not before your mouth could see if she tasted as sweet as you remembered.

 Her body was trembling, and not from fear but with excitement, as you took that first long lick between her folds. "Jamie," she moaned out at just that simple touch, and your name on her lips spurred you on. You started with soft kitten-like licks, your tongue getting coated with her wetness. Her hand worried through your locks, and her nails scratched into your scalp with each lick, urging you on. "Mmm…yes, Jame…yes." You flicked your tongue faster across her clit, feeling her hips rise, as you placed a steadying hand across her stomach, to hold her in place as you devoured her pussy. She tasted just as delicious as you remembered and you could've spent hours there just driving her insane, but when you dipped your tongue inside her cunt, you felt the first blush of her orgasm begin. "Fuck, Jame…I'm gonna cum." You thrust your tongue in deeper encouraging her to cum all over your mouth. "Oh god…Jamie," she cried out as pleasure washed over her, and you felt a rush of wetness hit your mouth.

 "Mmm," you moaned out as you lapped at her pussy. Her body went lax as she came off her high, but you weren't done yet. You had fourteen years to make up for, and you planned on starting tonight. Taking your index finger, you slowly thrust it inside her, while your tongue moved back to work on her little nub. Just soft licks as her body was still over-sensitized from her first orgasm.

 "Jamie, what are you…." She didn't finish that sentence, as your finger found her g-spot and you rubbed the pad of it back and forth against her pleasure spot. "Fuck, Jame….I…oh god…" Her words were almost incoherent, her body writhing each time you touched her. Your mouth nibbled on her clit at the same time and you could feel her losing control again. "I can't," she panted out, yet you knew she could.

 "Come on baby, just one more," you encouraged, then latched back onto her little nub.

 "Oh, Jame…I…Fuck…" She was there then, quivering around your finger that kept making that come hither motion inside her. Her body bucked up into your mouth, as you worked her through her second orgasm until the shaking finally subsided and she relaxed back into the mattress. A grin broke out across your face, and you planted a soft kiss on her pussy, before pulling out your finger and working your way back up her body. "I think you're trying to kill me," she breathed out, though she was smiling from ear to ear.

 "Only in a good way baby." She brought your lips to hers then, tasting her sweet essence that still lingered there. Her one leg stole to the back of your thigh, the heel of her foot running up and down before she broke from the kiss.

 "I think you're overdressed, Mr. Benn." Her hands trailed down to where your button was still undone from her earlier work on the sofa. All she had to do was slide the zipper down then shimmy them past your hips and you were free, though you kicked them and your boxers off your legs and onto the floor, before going back to kiss her again.

 "Better," you asked once the garments were discarded.

 Her hands snaked down your body to your cock, where she began stroking it. "Much," she hummed out, while you groaned out in pleasure. "My turn," she said, with a playful shove to your chest, so that you would roll onto your back, but there would be none of that tonight. Just like the first time you were together, you knew if her lips touched your cock it would all be over and you'd waited too long to be inside her again to have it all end that way.

 "Not tonight, baby," you told her then pecked her lips. Her palm twisted around the head of your cock and you almost spent right there in her hand. You had to grit your teeth, at the exquisite feeling. "Now who's trying to kill who?" You gripped her wrist to stop her before she got carried away.

 "Just trying to return the favor." (Y/N) nipped at your lower lip, pulling it between her teeth, before sucking on it. She really would kill you if she kept this up, but what a way to go. You took control of the situation before things got out of hand, spreading her legs farther apart, before replacing her hand with your own so you could guide it into her warm and waiting entrance. She felt like the finest silk wrapped around you, as you entered her pussy. It was even better than that first time had been. "Mmm," she moaned out as you filled her with your cock. When you were buried all the way inside her you thought back to fourteen years ago and how you'd looked into her eyes and told her you loved her. That love was still there today, and you longed to tell her how you felt, but knew she wasn't ready for that. It took every ounce of self-control not to whisper those eight letters to her. Instead, you let your eyes speak the words you so longed to say as you locked yours with her, before starting that slow thrust in and out of her.

 Her hips met each slow thrust until you couldn't take it anymore and you pumping your cock into her at a frenzied pace. While somewhere in your mind you knew this wouldn't be your only time with her, you knew you wanted to make this last, so you slowed to a steadier rhythm. Moans filled the room, both yours and hers, as your lips would connect then pull apart as you both needed air. Every now and then you would dip down and suckle on her pulse point, driving her even more insane. "Yes…Jame…yes," (Y/N) would pant out.

 "Fuck you feel so good," you told her as you thrust inside her over and over. Taking her leg, you repositioned you both, so that it rested against your chest, letting you drive into her pussy even deeper. There was no holding back then, as your cock was buried to the hilt. "I'm so close, babe."

 "Me too," she murmured. Still, your hand snuck down to rub her clit, making sure she reached that pinnacle before you did. "Oh god, Jame," she screamed as her climax hit, her nails biting into your back as she came hard. She said your name over and over like a benediction, until you spiraled out of control, thrusting deep into her and cuming with her.

 Your body tensed, and you groaned out her name as you filled her with your cum. "(Y/N)," you called out, her body wrapping around yours, holding you close as you came. You slumped forward, your body relaxing as you floated back to earth. You twisted both of you to your sides, as to not crush her, though your cock remained inside her as it grew flaccid.

 The two of you laid there, lazily kissing one another, neither ready to break the intimate contact you'd just shared. She finally needed air and broke the kiss, yet snuggled deeper into your side; her lips pressing soft little kisses to your chest, while you kissed the top of her head. You just laid there a few moments catching your breath, while her fingers drew slow circles along your back and arms. It was (Y/N) who finally broke the silence. "So, is this your way of not getting me to run?"

 You moved so that you could see her face in the dim light, not catching her meaning. "Huh?"

 She giggled then, the sound vibrating through your body. "Your cock is still inside me."

 "Oh shit, sorry." You made a move to pull out, but the leg she had slung over your hip, tightened its grip, pulling you closer to her.

 "I'm teasing Jame. I like you like this, or rather us like this."

 "Mmm, me too," you mumbled before ghosting your lips over hers.

 "Definitely easier for round two." She winked at you before burying her head into your chest. At her mention of the words round two, your cock twitched showing signs of life again. "Well, that was fast," she said eluding to your growing erection. Oh yes, round two was definitely going to happen, and maybe rounds three and four as well.  

[twokinkybeans]

Touch Me, Please [Starker Fic] Pt.2

Summary: Tony Stark has never told anyone that he's still a virgin. He doesn't want to sleep with people who only want him because of his outward persona. So instead, he hires an escort. Things get a little more heated than either of them had expected. Tags/Warnings: Escort!Peter, Virgin!Tony, nff, nsfw, sexual tension, teasing, Peter is 22, Tony is 53, oral sex, 69. Taglist: @starkerswonderland @staticwhispersinthedark @starkerprince @parkers-stark​ (let me know if you want to be added!) -Kim

Read the fic here on AO3

Or click here to read Chapter 1 on Tumblr

-

TOUCH ME PLEASE, PT.2

Tony’s brain fails to function when Peter’s cherry-red lips press themselves onto his own. It’s a gentle clash. Peter’s lips are much softer than the ones Tony had kissed all those years ago. “Peter,” he whimpers desperately into the boy’s parted lips. The escort responds by simply deepening the kiss. The soft, velvet tongue sweeps past his teeth, and he kisses him hungrily. The staged passion has Tony fooled more than he thought possible. He’s aware that this is Peter’s job- making other men aroused and then pleasing them. Yet, Tony hadn’t thought it’d feel so real.  “Tony-” Peter breathes and pulls back slightly. Tony swears he can see a hint of longing on the boy’s face. He’s acting, don’t forget that. “Tony, tell me what you want.” “W-what?”

“I want you to tell me what you want me to do. It’s your first time. Gotta make it special, huh?” Somehow, the teasing tone in Peter’s voice when he speaks those words makes it so easy for Tony to push down his rising shame. It’s not some weird clinical discussion. Not at all. The question for consent low-key blows him away. He’s not used to it. His high school boyfriend at the time had never asked, and the people that tried flirting with him now weren’t much better. His ‘no’s are usually waved off as cocky, entitled behavior. 

“I…” Tony starts, frowning when he notices how he has no fucking clue. Oh, God. Here he is. He hired an escort, and he doesn’t even know what he wants. “I don’t know,” he whispers. Peter leans back a little, leaving some space between them, and sends him a gentle smile.

“That’s alright. We’ll take it step-by-step, ‘kay?” “Please.” “Cool. Anything you don’t want to do tonight?” Peter tilts his head in a curious motion. His curls bounce along with the movement, and once again, Tony is struck by his beauty.

“Nothing kinky,” Tony rushes out. “I just… I just want it to feel good. I want to make you feel good.” Tony’s head snaps up as he realizes what he just said. Something clicks in his mind. It… Yes. That’s it. “I want to make you feel good,” he repeats, his voice more assertive this time. Peter lets out a surprised chuckle. The boy searches Tony’s face for a second. Does he think Tony’s joking? “For real?” Peter asks. “You could ask me to do anything to you, but you want to make me feel good?” “Yes.” Tony straightens his shoulders. “I know pleasure. I- I wanna know how to make someone else feel that way. I-” Suddenly, he’s overcome with a wave of uncertainty again. “If that’s… Okay for you as well. Of course. God- I’m sorry. This is so not sexy,” he rambles. Peter tuts and leans in again, pressing his forehead against Tony’s.

“Doesn’t have to be,” he whispers. “If we want the rest of our night to be amazing, we gotta talk about this. Have to admit, most clients are very clear about their wants.” Peter snorts. “They usually prefer if I don’t talk at all.” “Oh?” “Mmmh. They prefer me to keep my mouth occupied elsewhere. But you?” Peter’s voice seems to trail off for a second when their gazes lock. Peter’s dark, chocolate puppy eyes contain a seriousness Tony can’t quite place. Peter’s voice is soft when he continues. “You’re different.”

Tony can’t shake the feeling that those words mean something. Different. He’s different. The insecurity almost makes him ask if that’s a good or a bad thing, but the intensity in Peter’s eyes already reveals the answer. “Peter…” he breathes softly. “I don’t know how to be a good client. But I promise you; I’ll be the most eager student you’ve ever taught how to have sex.” The half-sincere joke makes Peter laugh, and the sound sends a pleasant tingling sensation across Tony’s chest. “Sex ed 101 with Peter,” the escort jokes back. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” “Best-selling class, I’m telling ya.” “Well, lucky for you, you’re my first student.” Peter’s voice drops, making everything flare up again. Tony’s heartbeat picks up, and his cock throbs in the tight fit of his jeans. He speaks hoarsely. “Where do we start?”

Instantly, Peter’s lips are back on his own. It shouldn’t take Tony by surprise anymore, but it does. It’s earth-shattering how good it feels. Peter’s every move is urgent and hot and it makes Tony think that although it may be an act… Maybe, some of it could be real? “Can I unbutton your shirt?” Peter moans, and Tony curses at the sensations it sends straight into his hard cock. He ruts upwards and nods. “Y-yeah. If you take your shirt off too?” Peter sends him a cocky grin and nods. “Deal.”  Their teeth clash clumsily when Peter can no longer steady himself against Tony’s chest. His slender fingers easily unbutton the tight, expensive white dress shirt. Tony grunts as he feels the coldness of Peter’s fingertips brushing over his hot skin. He doesn’t even mind that it’s cold. All he can think about is how a gorgeous being is touching him - touching him. He swallows. “Feels good,” he mutters and drops his head back against the backrest of his couch when Peter’s fingers trail lower. And lower. And lower. His eyes widen, and he stares enchanted how Peter teasingly traces past the band of his boxers. Then, he snaps his gaze back up. “Your shirt?” “R-Right.” Peter expertly grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. Tony blinks a few times when he sees the smooth skin gliding past the fittest body he ever saw.

“Good Lord,” Tony laughs. “You’re fucking ripped.” “Wanna touch it?” Peter retorts, causing Tony to blush. He smiles sheepishly at the escort and nods, slowly reaching out. He’s never touched someone else like this. Never with the burning pit of desire deep within his core. Never so longingly. Never this intimately. When he feels the hot skin on his fingers, he lets out a shaky breath.  “Why is this so fucking scary,” he mumbles, not even that taken aback anymore by how easy it is to open up about that to Peter. He’s safe here. “Do you want me to guide your hands?”

Tony nods. He’s relieved at the offer. He stares at how Peter shuffles his weight back to make sure he won’t fall. Then, he gently reaches up and grabs the back of Tony’s hands. Slowly, he brings them up, all the way over his pecs and to his neck. Then, slowly, back down until Tony’s hands grab Peter’s waist tightly. “Peter?” “Yeah?” “You’re beautiful.”

Peter stills at that and he stares down at Tony. “Thank you.” He whispers. “I mean it.” “I know.” Peter’s voice is so gentle, and it stuns Tony just how confidently the boy is taking his compliment. He trusts Tony to speak the truth. “We should go to my bedroom,” Tony continues then. Peter smirks and nods.  “Show me where the m- Eh, the magic’s about to happen?” Tony laughs and shakes his head.  “Good save.” He grabs the kid’s thighs tightly and grins, hoisting him a little closer. Peter gasps, a silent shriek leaving his parted lips. Tony stands up quickly- he’s eternally grateful for his workout sessions with Happy- and carries Peter towards his master bedroom. Peter giggles adorably, and Tony would be a damn liar if he’d say the sound didn’t make his heart flutter in his chest. 

“Holy shit-” is the first thing Peter manages to say when he eyes the bedroom with his pupils blown. “I knew you were rich and classy, but this? This is next level.” “Do you like it?” “Mmmh,” Peter pretends to think. “I will have to evaluate the softness of your sheets to-” Tony, carefully, drops Peter onto the soft cushions displayed on his large king bed. Peter groans, grabbing at the surface of the blanket. “Perfect.” He looks up teasingly and pats the free space next to him. Tony obeys and lays down next to Peter. He swallows when he sees the golden light of the lamps reflect in Peter’s eyes - casting a nice, warm glow on his torso. 

It makes Tony feel bold. He leans in and presses his lips against Peter’s ribcage. Peter gasps, the tiny sound so lovely that Tony wants to hear it again with all his heart. He sucks onto the skin, moving his kisses higher and higher. In the process, he finds himself half-draped over the kid, but he doesn’t mind. His opened shirt covers the both of them once Tony’s hot kisses have found their way against Peter’s smooth neck. “This okay?” he asks. Peter lets out a breathy, ‘yes, keep going just like that.’ Tony obeys. His lips suckling, teasing Peter’s skin, and the boy’s shaky moans have him in pieces. He wants to experience this… This bliss, forever.

“Tony,” Peter groans, and Tony can’t help the jittery explosion of butterflies in his stomach when he feels how the boy bucks his hips up to press his groin against Tony’s thighs. He’s rutting himself against him, oh god.   “Mmmh?” “I need you-” Peter babbles. The kid’s eyes open wide, and a deep red blush appears on both cheekbones. He looks so flushed and needy that it makes Tony feel all the things he thought were impossible. The things he’d written off as ‘fake’ or ‘only in porn.’ “I shouldn’t…” “Shouldn’t what?” Tony says, his heart skipping a beat. Peter presses his lips together for a short moment in time. Then, he shakes his head and chuckles softly at his own thoughts.  “I shouldn’t let myself go like this. Fuck, Tony, I’ve never felt this way with anyone before.”

Tony freezes. Surely, Peter could say that to anyone, right? But the flushed cheeks, the longing in Peter’s eyes, the desperate rutting… Is there a chance all of that is, well, real? “Peter, are you… I need to know-” he croaks. “Is this an act, or…” His voice trails off. It’s Peter who seems startled this time, and he quickly shakes his head. “N-no! I swear, fuck, Tony, this is not an act. I-” he stammers and looks up at Tony with such sincerity that it makes his chest constrict with emotions he can’t quite place. No one. No one’s ever looked at him like that. Not his high-school boyfriend. Not the casual flirts. Not the strippers that some folks jokingly hired for him at parties. No.

There’s absolutely no possible way that anyone could act such a thing. 

“God,” Tony lets out with a quivering breath. He stares at the boy and swallows. Even the boy’s beauty hits differently now. He feels connected to Peter in a way he does not understand. It’s as if this is meant to be. Them. Together. Their fingers tangled in messy bedsheets, their lips crushed together until they both ride their highs. It’s… Fate. And Tony be damned, he never believed in such a thing, but Peter makes him think anything’s possible right now. “You wanted to please me, right, Tony?” “Y-yeah?” “Then touch me. Please?”

The high-pitched moan that escapes from Tony’s throat is feral as he dives in. He straddles Peter’s thighs and mouths at the boy’s skin. Lower, and lower, and lower. He revels in the breathy gasps from his partner when he licks a stripe past the waistband of Peter’s jeans. He shifts his weight a little and sniffs once, slowly moving his hand to squeeze Peter’s hip. Then, he moves his fingers. Creeping up all the way until they cup the hard, unmistakenly big cock that strains against the fabric.  “Holy shit,” Peter moans. “Yes, Tony, yes. ” It’s all the encouragement that the man needs to move his hand a little - rubbing, stroking, teasing the boy’s groin. He’s touching another man. And while he feels slightly uncertain about what he’s doing, he knows he’s doing it right. It’s new and exciting, but it feels so utterly natural.  Tony had feared not knowing how to do any of this, but it’s as if his brains automatically steer him in the right direction. It’s addictive. Tony’s nostrils flare when a new, daring thought crosses his mind.

“Can I, eh, Peter, can I suck you off?” Peter’s eyes are dark and hungry when he nods. Tony grins, and he’s starting to feel more confident now. The boy moves his hands down and unbuttons his dark slacks, then desperately trying to push them down.  “Lemme help,” Tony chuckles, and he grabs the edge of the fabric, tugging it down when Peter lifts his hips. Tony’s breath catches in his throat when he realizes Peter isn’t wearing any underwear.  For a short moment, he just stares at the big, hard cock resting on the young man’s ripped abdomen. Somehow, the sight makes Tony fly grow tighter. Tony recomposes himself and tugs the pants down, tossing them on the floor. Peter’s entirely naked now, and he’s gorgeous. He looks like a marble statue or a beautiful Renaissance painting, the warm glow of his skin begging for ecstatic pleasure. 

“Hey, you alright?”  Tony stares up and blinks a few times, then meeting Peter’s eyes. He blushes when he realizes he’d gotten a little too caught up in staring. “Yeah,” Tony confirms quickly. He doesn’t want Peter to worry. “You’re… Stunning. Never saw anyone quite like you.” “Can I see you too?” Peter props himself onto his elbows and cocks his head playfully. “My clients usually like to get naked, but you don’t seem to be in a similar rush.” “I’m not like your other clients,” Tony growls, probably far too possessive and inappropriate. But Peter moans, and Tony counts it as yet another win. He shifts a bit closer and stares at the boy’s cock again. It can’t be that difficult, can it? Tony knows how he likes to touch himself. This has to be somewhat similar.

Tony takes a leap of faith when he reaches out and curls his fingers around Peter’s cock. It’s warm. It fits in his hand perfectly. He slowly moves his hand down a little bit and smiles slyly when it makes the other gasp.  He was wrong, though- It’s nothing like his own cock. It’s much, much , better. He leans forward and kisses the tip; the pink flesh feels soft against his lips. It’s a strange sensation. He’s touched his own cock often enough, obviously, yet this feels enticingly different and good.  Peter growls when Tony takes him deeper into his mouth, and the sound only spurs Tony on to keep going. “Shit, Tony-” Peter brabbles. “You’re amazing, k-keep going.” 

Soon, Tony finds himself in an enchanting rhythm. It’s almost stupidly funny how much doing this satisfies him. He’s not only giving pleasure to Peter. He’s taking it too. He loves everything about it. The way Peter’s cock fills his mouth so good, the way Peter’s fingers unconsciously tug on Tony’s hair to guide him in the right direction, the throaty moans leaving the boy’s lips.

“Tony- Tony, w-wait. I wanna try something.” Peter mumbles, and Tony looks up curiously, his lips parted and tingly from the continuous dragging motions.  “Show me?” “Yeah, eh, come here and turn around, facing- Yeah. That’s it.” Peter directs him, and Tony’s throat feels dry when Peter’s idea settles under his skin. Oh. Yes. “I don’t know how…” Tony mumbles, unsure where to go to make it happen. Peter’s hands easily guide him back until Tony’s kind of straddling Peter’s face, and suddenly, he feels the soft, expert lips wrapping around his cock. Tony curses out loud. His fingers grasp at the sheets as he feels the most intense pleasure he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

It takes him a few seconds to get used to the sensations, and then he casts his eyes down again to stare at Peter’s cock. Right. He moves down and captures the head between his lips again. Peter moans around his cock, and Tony swears he’s over and done with. Lost. He’s lost within this pleasure.  In an attempt to stay alert enough to know what he’s doing, he tries to follow Peter’s motions. When Peter sucks, Tony sucks too. When Peter takes him deeper, so does Tony. A slight chuckle from Peter reveals he sees through Tony, and Tony has to keep a grin at bay when Peter starts doing exactly the things he wants to feel himself. Their bodies sync perfectly together like this and everything is just absolutely 100% perfect.

Tony doesn’t think he’ll survive this. His hair is messy, sticking to his sweaty forehead. His jaw aches so bad, and his arms are starting to wear out from being in this position for who knows how long. He feels so, so good. His groin is burning, building closer and closer towards his orgasm. His balls feel tight, and Peter’s tongue is still relentlessly swirling around him while the tight lips keep dragging up and down around him.  He hears Peter’s mumbles becoming louder, though, and he notices the boy’s thighs are trembling. Tony whimpers when he realizes that Peter is this close to spilling into his mouth. It’s the sheer desperation of wanting to have Peter fall apart underneath him that he’s able to carry on faster than he had before. Peter keens with pleasure, his lips getting sloppy around Tony’s cock. 

The man doesn’t see it coming when suddenly Peter’s body seems to tense up, and hot spurts fill Tony’s mouth. Oh. Tony thinks, scrunching his nose a little bit at the slightly bitter taste. This is not what he’d expected, but he eagerly sucks and swallows every last drop.  “Fuck, Peter…” he breathes as he finally swallowed it all, staring at how the cock now lays limp on the boy’s stomach. Slowly getting smaller again. “Fuck, that was- Ah! ” 

Peter seems not to want to waste another second. The boy’s fingers dig into Tony’s upper legs as he sucks harder and faster. Tony’s world comes crumbling down when his mind shortcircuits. His muscles tense, and he releases without warning, spilling into the hot depths of Peter’s throat. “O-Oh, fuck. Fuckfuck fuck, Peter.” Tony chokes out when suddenly every sensation is heightened. The boy’s tongue swirls slow circles around the head of his cock, lapping up every last drop. Tony’s too out of it to say anything. He simply lets it happen, relishing in this wave of post-orgasm bliss. 

After God knows how long, his eyes finally flutter open, and he drops himself onto his sheets next to Peter. The escort smiles at him widely and reaches out to trace Tony’s chest with the tips of his fingers. “Did you like it?” Peter asks quietly. Tony smirks and nods, scooting a little closer to press into Peter’s side. “It was… Perfect.” Tony pauses and takes a deep breath. “Thank you, I… Couldn’t have dreamed of something better.”

Maybe they didn’t get to the ‘real’ thing yet, and Tony has to admit that he desperately wishes to know what it’d feel like to be inside of the boy, but for now, everything inside him feels light and fluttery and sound. “Stay the night?” he whispers, not wanting to be alone. Peter swallows and turns his head to stare at Tony’s face. “I want to,” he whispers, seeming to hesitate about something. Tony frowns. “Hey, you don’t have to, I…” “No, Tony. I… I want to. But it’s not without cost. I’m still… At work,” he says awkwardly. “I don’t want you to pay for that.” His voice sounds as if he’s sorry about it. Tony smiles at him. “Money’s no issue for me. I’d happily pay you double to have you around a bit longer.”

Tony knows it’s, again, inappropriate to say such things, but he can’t help it. He can’t help the confusing emotions when it comes to Peter. Peter looks up happily and nods.

“I… I’d love to stay.”

[waezi2]

Re-reading Yu-Gi-Oh (part 1)

So... I bitch a lot about Yu-Gi-Oh. When I don’t complain about it online and accuse it of scamming kid me, I ridicule the story and the many holes in the game rules.

But I actually used to love this manga with a burning passion. I bought it because I was fixated with the cards, but instead I got traumatized. In an awesome way.

So I decided to re-read the manga about the possibly best known TCG game in the world and see how it started, how it evolved, and if the story still holds up.

So, I’m reading chapter 1, and we have to talk about the art.

The art style at the beginning was chunky and sometimes downright awkward. But it was still very enjoyable. The characters were very expressive and the tone of the style could swing quickly from wacky and rubberhose like to eerie and brooding depending on the situation. It makes you forgive odd-looking legs and hands that becomes massive. It is clear that it is someone’s first project.

So, this is Yugi. Possibly the cutest and meekest punk kid who ever lived. Yugi is not an outdoor person, so he spends most of his recesses inside the classroom. He brings a ton of games to school, hoping that someone might wanna play with him, but all of his classmates prefer to go outside and do stuff like basketball. And being a short teenager who practically looks like a little boy means he is not a desirable team mate in any ball game.

This is totally just a theory, but I think Yugi’s signature punk hairstyle is his way of trying to look a bit more edgy to try do something about his cute appearance.

... Yeah, it’s not working. He still looks like a fricking Gummibear.

As Yugi is minding his own business, we meet two familiar faces.

... their names are actually Jounouchi and and Honda, but most people know them by their American names, so I will just refer to them as Joey and Tristan. 

It’s so odd to see their old designs. Especially Joey since his hair is not as big and square like as it is today. And what the fuck is up with Tristan’s face?!

Anyways, while Yugi decides to play with the most valuable game in his collection, Joey and Tristan decides to mess with him. They make an interesting bully duo where Tristan is more loud and is clearly having more fun bothering Yugi who is too short to put up a fight while Joey seems more stoic and is almost annoyed by Yugi for being a pushover. He even tells Yugi to be a man about it and at least try and take the game back from him by force. So while Tristian just enjoys picking on Yugi for the heck of it, Joey seems to sincerely dislike Yugi.

Luckily, Yugi doesn’t have trouble with bullies as such since he is friends with Tea who is so tough that she actually intimidate Joey and Tristan with sheer attitude. That’s actually impressive.

... A shame she is most of the time just the damsel in distress.

Tea is the only person in class who hangs out with Yugi since they have been friends since kindergarten. And she doesn’t mind staying inside at all since a ton of the guys are jerks who only wanna play basketball with the girls since it gives them an opportunity to look up their skirts.

Yeah, there is a lot of that in this manga. Most of the males in this series are kinda horny. the humor often relies on it, which downright creepy at times.

Even Yugi finds basketball more appealing now that he knows about the skirt-looking.

Lewd panty-shot aside, I think it is a nice detail that Yugi is as pathetic as the rest of the dudes in school, he probably just doesn’t have the courage to try get a look. It makes him less of a pure hero.

Altight, let’s stop talking about Yugi being a closet creep:/

Yugi shows Tea what his greatest treasure is: A LITTERAL treasure.

Yep, this is the famous Millennium Puzzle, practically the mascot of the series. It’s an ancient puzzle found in an pyramid that Yugi got from his grandfather who runs a game store. The puzzle is extremely valuable, both because it is from ancient Egypt and it is made of gold.

... And Yugi brings it to school where Tristan and Joey pushes him around...

Yugi has been struggling with the puzzle for eight years despite being a game nerd. Even though it is a blow to his not that big ego, he keeps trying to solve it since the box says that if he will be granted a wish if he manage to solve the puzzle.

Meanwhile, Joey and Tristan makes the fatal mistake of talking about picking on Yugi while Ushio is close enough to hear it. He is the school’s hall monitor and rumor has it that he is downright psychotic and is feared by most of the students. Heck, some of the teachers are uncomfortable being near him.

And this guy has decided to become Yugi’s bodyguard, something poor Yugi doesn’t take serious when Ushio tells him that.

Joey and Tristan are unaware how screwed they are as they keep having their fun bothering Yugi without our hero knowing it. Joey managed to steal a piece from the puzzle box before Tea interrupted, and Joey decides to throw the piece in the school’s swimming pool so that the puzzle becomes worthless as it can no longer be solved. I gotta say, that is pretty twisted and surprisingly sneaky of a teen bully. It’s downright creepy.

Speaking of creepy...

This is Yugi’s grandfather Sugoroku. He runs the game shop that Yugi lives in and is a living encyclopedia when it comes to games of all sorts.

And he can’t just tell Tea that she has grown. He HAS to mention her breasts as well. Da fuck is up with all the sex talk and panty shots in this series?! Does Kazuki Takahashi(the author) have some sort of issues?!

Yugi’s grandfather notices that Yugi is STILL trying to solve the ancient puzzle and warns Yugi that the puzzle is supposedly cursed. That the archeologist and his team died mysteriously shortly after finding the puzzle and the last one to kick the bucket said something about a “shadow game” with his dying breath.

That however makes Yugi even more determent to solve the puzzle. If it really is magical then chances are that he will be granted a wish by completing the puzzle.

Personally, I would call the nearest museum and sell the dang thing before it could kill me with it’s insane cursed magic.

Speaking of insane, Yugi realizes that he should have taken Ushio serious when he said he would be his bodyguard.

Yep, the SOB has dragged Joey and Tristan behind the school building and kicked their asses through and through. Tristan is in so much pain that he is barely conscious and Joey is so pummeled that all he can do is watch as Yugi shows how surprisingly brave he is as he demands that Ushio leaves them alone, even refer to them as his friends and that they were just trying to make him a man.

Yeah, picking on someone because they are too timid and demanding that they fight you despite knowing that they hat violence is the right way to make someone a man. Hip hooray for toxic masculinity!

Yugi defending Joey and Tristan results in him getting a beating as well.

One of the interesting things about early Yu-Gi-Oh is the raw and ugly violence. We talking dirty violence where people get kneed in the chest and kicked while they lie down. Not just off-screen, we witness our heroes be pummeled, making the series a bit more gritty and frightening. And this series is not for those with a weak stomach.

Joey is stunned, partly because Yugi defends him, but way more of the short spiky-haired kid’s courage. But Yugi is anything but afraid. After all, he refused to fight Joey, but he still tried to get the puzzle back(not successfully, but he made an effort instead of just squirming).

After Ushio finished kicking poor Yugi’s ass, he tells him to bring him money as “payment” for his “bodyguard service.” And we talking 200000 yen, that’s a lot of dough.

Ushio even pulls a god damn knife(!), just to show how fucking crazy he is!

Yugi goes home to see if he has money enough to pay Ushio, but he only has 1656 yen. In frustration, Yugi decides to solve his unsolvable puzzle, just to think of something else than the brute with a knife who is waiting for him at school.

But what do you know? Yugi finally get the hang of it. He sees that some of the pieces just needs to be rotated differently and he finish it in a couple of minutes.

... Or he WOULD have. He finally sees that one of the pieces are missing, breaking his heart and making his awful day even worse.

But Grandpa has the last piece. He tells Yugi that one of his friends from school had found it and asked him to give it to Yugi. And that he was soaked despite it not raining.

As Yugi is happy about being able to finish the puzzle and returns to his room, his grandpa thinks about that the boy was Joey and that he asked him not to tell Yugi it was him that came with the puzzle piece. Joey also told him about Ushio blackmailing Yugi, so Grandpa secretly puts money in Yugi’s schoolbag so he won’t get in trouble.

And this is where it get’s freaky.

Yep, here it is. the iconic moment Yugi gets blessed by the puzzle so that he can turn into the split personality we refer to as Yami which is Japanese for “Dark”.

Yugi then calls Ushio and tells him to meet him outside school at midnight.

Ushio is surprised as he sees that Yugi is wearing some sort of costume and that he looks way more cocky than before.

Yugi tells Ushio that he has the money he demands, but he has twice the amount. Fricking 400000 yen!

But Yugi only “owes” 200000 to Ushio, so he suggest that they play about them in a dark and twisted game.

Yugi and Ushio take turns stabbing the stack of money placed on their hand. They have to stab hard enough to take more than one single bill. The winner is the guy with most yen bills.

As they play, Ushio seems to be winning... but when it is his turn, he can feel that his hand is way too eager to stab.

This is not just a weird-ass game. This is a “shadow game”, a game that shows your true nature. Ushio’s greed is now collected in his hand, and he so desperately want to win the game that he can’t control it. He realizes that if he stabs, he won’t be able to control his strength and he will penetrate his own hand. Ushio has to either A) give up and keep his hand or B) win the game with one hand less.

Ushio picks C.

Ushio tries to kill Yugi, but that was a mistake. The puzzle has made him super human and he leaps from the ground, evading the knife.

And cheating in a shadow game is a big no-go as the host of the game has authority to punish you.

Yami Yugi curses Ushio with “Illusion of Greed”, meaning he will be doomed to live in an imaginary world where he sees nothing but money everywhere.

Next morning, he is still outside the schoolyard like a drooling idiot who yells about all of his imaginary money.

Yugi has no memory of what happened but is glad he no longer has to be worried of Ushio who is a harmless nutcase. Not only that, he has finally finished his puzzle... and Joey offers him his friendship.

And that was the start of the horror manga turned card game commercial. It has a lot of charm, is very eerie and I think I prefer Yami Yugi’s first look that is more child like. making him look downright creepy.

This retrospective will continue ASAP.

Till then, I’m Waezi2, and thanks for wasting time with me.

[stark-tony]

most recent bookmarks (6/18/21)

mcu

you game? cake time? by iron_spider (3k, T, pepperony) Peter stares at him.“I’d like your help,” Tony says, gesturing towards the ton of cakes. “Your refined palette.”Peter snorts. He can’t lie, excitement is rising in his throat and in his stomach, and he barely ate at lunch today because he was trying to finish up the book report before sixth period. “Does Miss Potts know you picked me?”“You can call her Pepper.”Peter cocks his head. “Does Pepper know you picked me to help you?”

The Dangers of Sleeping on the Upside of the Bed by Honorable_mention (1.1k, G, gen, quarantine) Midtown High School’s Academic Decathlon team had moved online. Once a week, even during the summer, everyone would log on and chat for a few minutes before trying to beat each other on Protobowl while hurling barely school appropriate threats at each other. It was really quite a lot of fun.Through these online meetings Cindy Moon had gotten the opportunity to intimately learn about her teammates in a way she hadn’t been able to when they were in-person. A person’s room and the way they talked to their family told you a lot about them.In which the members of the Academic Decathlon team get the chance to meet Peter's roommates

something bright coming his way by iron_spider (6.5k, T, gen, hurt peter) “Pete,” Tony’s voice says. “I’m heading to your location.”Peter narrows his eyes. Karen’s colors turn from dark red to a softer blue, which he takes as her celebrating Tony’s imminent arrival. How imminent? What?“What?” Peter says again. Like an idiot.“Your numbers aren’t what I like to see and you stopped moving and I was in the area, anyway. You know. Doing Iron Man things. You okay?”Peter blinks. He sees some more lights out ahead of him that he thinks are headlights, and he feels like Karen is trying to even out his vision by changing how things come across on the HUD. She’s failing, but he won’t say that. Can she read his brainwaves? No. Definitely not. Maybe. Either way he doesn’t wanna be mean to her, so he stops thinking.Ugh, his side hurts.

Of All the Nurses’ Offices in All the High Schools... by sahiya (7k, T, gen, outsiders pov, identity reveal, hurt peter) Peter Parker has his own gravitational orbit, and it tends to suck in the people around him. Including burned out school nurses who were just minding their own business.Or: Patrick Carmichael meets Spider-Man (and Tony Stark), adopts a cat, and gets just a little bit better.

a first time for everything by crowkag (7.7k, pepperony, sick peter)  “Why are you whispering?” Pepper was asking, and the other noises were receding away behind the creak of a door and click of a lock.“Because I’m hosting a vigilante super-teen with enhanced hearing this weekend.” He slumped back into the couch cushions. “Or did you forget?”There was a sharp intake of breath.“Peter? Oh god, what did you—”“Nothing,” Tony rushed out, scrambling. “He’s fine. The kid’s fine, honey.”A beat of silence.“Okay, well, he’s not fine, but—”“Tony Stark—”

Is he or Is he not? by Omenthia_Arc (43.2k, G, pepperony, 5 + 1, people think peter is tony’s kid) Five times someone thought that Peter was Tony's biological son and one time everyone thought it.

hp

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy (35.7k, M, drarry, post-hogwarts, domestic) When Harry moves into the damp and empty Black house, it doesn’t quite feel like home. And then the first owl moves in. After that, it’s a steep slope leading to bed-sharing, more owls, assorted housemates, strange potions experiments, and terrible cooking. And a bit of waltzing, too.

The Wrong Sort by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle (289.5k, T, drarry, romione, gryffindor draco, canon divergence, torture)  In which Draco Malfoy is sorted into Gryffindor and everything kind of goes to Hell from there… but hey. At least there’s a chance he won’t grow up to be an awful person. Alternatively titled ‘Draco Malfoy and the Worst Goddamn Seven Years of His Life’

The Mirror of Ecidyrue by starbrigid (998.6k, E, drarry, wolfstar, romione, neville/ luna, grindeldore, lockhart/snape, time travel, fix it, abuse) All it takes is one look in a mirror and an ill-advised attempt to shatter it, before an embittered Draco Malfoy fresh out of Azkaban is sent back into his body on the day he gets his Hogwarts letter.Suddenly, Draco has an unwanted second chance, with a Sorting Hat that doesn't know what to do with him, a certain Muggleborn who won't leave his study table alone, and green eyes he just can't get out of his head. And then there's his new wand, whose choice of him could just mark him as every bit as dark a wizard as his name means he should be.

more than getting by by sarewolf (34.4k, M, wolfstar, wolfstar raises harry) “What do you want me to do?” Remus says, tiredly. All he wants is to curl up on his bed. Smoke a pack of cigarettes. Get drunk. He can’t stop looking at Harry.“Remus...” Dumbledore is gentle. Remus hates when he has that tone. Hates that he knows it will hurt. “There is no one else left.”A bitter laugh escapes him. “So you’ll curse the poor thing with a werewolf for a guardian?”

How Like Home by waitingondaisies (63.5k, T, jily, dimension travel) When Sirius falls through the veil, Harry chases after him, determined to find him on the other side. Instead, he finds nothing at all. When he wakes up, he is informed by Unspeakables that he is from an alternate universe.Thanks to his uncanny resemblance to his counterpart, Harry is readily recognized as a duplicate of Harry Potter, a normal fifteen year old boy, and is entrusted to the care of Lily and James Potter. From them, Harry discovers that Voldemort is not, and never was, a threat in this universe.Now, Harry must adapt to life with loving parents in a peaceful world.

Professor Black by Haunted_Frost (29k, T, wolfstar, professor regulus black) Kreacher's unending loyalty has allowed Regulus to survive the Inferi. In order to destroy the horcrux and ensure Voldemort's death, he goes back to Hogwarts, this time as a Potions professor. Years at this position give him new insights, even as the papers rave about how both the Blacks were traitors to their sides.When Sirius gets loose from Azkaban, Regulus knows one thing: he is not going to let his lunatic brother hurt his students.Inspired entirely by this tumblr post.

atla

(let me be) there for you by lesmiserablol (8.5k, T, zukka, post-war, bodyguard sokka, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers) Sokka pulls out a clean piece of parchment and starts to write:Reasons Why Sokka Would Be A Great Bodyguard for Lord ZukoHe smiles in satisfaction at the title. Seeing it in writing only makes him feel more confident in this brilliant, two-minute-old idea of his. Zuko is one of his closest friends, and Sokka is a great fighter, he would be the perfect bodyguard! He has the entirety of his trip in the Fire Nation to prove it to Zuko. This is going to be a piece of cake.(or, Sokka mistakes his crush for just a strong desire to be a guard for Zuko, and Suki is amused)

boy problems by burnt_oranges (22.2k, zukka, mailee, friends to lover, post-war, arranged marriage) “I accidentally signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka,” Zuko says faintly. He sits up so fast he almost falls out of his chair. “I signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka, and he agreed."In which Zuko suffers in a variety of ways, including but not limited to: close and constant proximity to the object of his affections, assassination attempts, and irreparable injuries to his dignity.

we really should google these things first by Bundibird (3k, G, gen, modern) Sokka's aloe vera plant is in need of a good pruning, and what's Sokka gonna do, just throw out all the pruned leaves? When instead he can make aloe vera juice? Come on. (Only - maybe he should have googled this beforehand. Because it turns out there's an edible kind of aloe, and a toxic kind. Guess what kind Sokka has. Go on, guess.)(Or: the modern AU based on the time I nearly poisoned myself with a non-edible succulent.)

spn

Checked Out by whelvenwings (27.1k, G, destiel, dreamhunter, library au, librarian castiel, writer dean, openly bi dean, misunderstandings)  Castiel Novak can think of many writers who would not be welcome under the roof of Heaven’s Gate library, where he is the librarian: Ayn Rand ranks highly (no explanation needed), as does Charles Dickens (he hasn’t forgiven Charles for the month he lost to The Pickwick Papers). And, of course, Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, local author and obvious a-hole, who is entirely too handsome to be true and who is clearly totally lacking in profundity, intelligence, sincerity, and self-awareness. Unfortunately, though, Dean’s been invited to do a book signing at Heaven’s Gate - and Castiel’s about to be confronted by some unexpected feelings when he finally meets Dean for the first time.

Aim and Ignite by wincechesters (10.3k, M, destiel, cas in the bunker)  After the angels fall and Cas loses his grace, and with Sam still recovering from the toll taken on his body by the trials, Dean starts a prank war as a way to lighten the mood in the bunker and alleviate his boredom. It might just have some unexpected consequences. --- A post-S8 canon AU.

bnha

Izuku plays video games with the League of Villains (among other things) by ADyingFlower (54.2k, T, gen, quirkless midoriya, villain deku) Izuku plays video games with the League of Villains, denies being a villain, has his beloved animal crossing file threatened, kicks ass with a shotgun, is proposed to, learns to deal with his depression, and accidentally kidnaps the son of the number two hero. In that order.Or: Five times Izuku played online with his friends, and one time he played with them in personThen Himiko screams.“CAPTAIN!” “Y-yeah?” Tomura asks almost hesitantly. “LOOK!!” All four of them spin around, right as a cannonball comes soaring inches from Izuku’s head from the Galleon less than a three feet away from them. They scream. “OH FUCK NO NO NO NO! NO!” Dabi yells, running to load the cannons. “DUDE WE HAVE SO MUCH SHIT! NO! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!”“Hey guys, guys! Hey, chill!” Izuku shrieks frantically, right as one of the players boards their ship and starts shooting. “CHILL THE FUCK OUT!”

our trust shot full of holes by nolov (louscr) (25.9k, T, gen) When he's twelve, Izuku meets his best friend. Neither of them are especially good at having friends, but they make do.The other shoe drops less than a week into his first year at U.A.

Are You Valued? by cyber_phobia (9.2k, T, dad for one)  "What are you drawing, Izuku?" Hisashi asks with adoration dripping in his voice. "It's Uncle!" Izuku shouts, smacking his dad's arm for daring to ask once more. All the air leaves Hisashi's lungs in one fell swoop.

To Spark A Smile by awefull (1.1k, G, gen, dadzawa) A six-year-old. Aizawa was the guardian of a six-year-old. Aizawa, a pro-hero, who had poor eating habits, and no sleep schedule, was in charge of raising a little girl.He, reasonably, had some concerns.

Long Night in the Valley by Marsalias (53.7k, T, gen, suspected traitor, dad might, dad for one) On paper, the Hero Commission's plan to investigate Midoriya Izuku under the guise of a training course for combating mental quirks is solid, almost foolproof, even. If Midoriya turns out to be innocent, they can pass everything off as part of the training exercise, assuming he even remembered any of it. Otherwise, they could beg forgiveness after the traitor was securely imprisoned in Tartarus.The paper plan failed to take into account the feral ghosts living in Midoriya Izuku's head, or his equally feral living friends.Time to bring on the chaos.

i gave the voices in my head a megaphone by hannahbal (17.3k, todoroki/midoriya/shinsou) ...and they started singing Megan Thee Stallion.(Hitoshi, like any good friend, brainwashes Izuku’s anxiety away for a day so he can know some peace. The problem? Izuku has no fear of god or consequences.Izuku also has no goddamn filter.)

Nothing Could Be More Worthwhile by Krisington (3.5k, G, gen, dad might) Toshinori Yagi wouldn’t say he had let his guard down in retirement, not exactly. It was more accurate to say that he had let his guard down in his true form. He didn’t notice others, and others didn’t notice him. It had become a small pleasure, he realized, one he was reluctant to let go.He should have known better.The man managed to reach All Might’s forehead a split second before All Might grabbed the man’s arm. But a second was just enough.A villain showed All Might a vision of Izuku. Bloodied. Broken. Fading. Was that some future that would come to pass? Toshinori needed to do everything in his power to make sure it wasn't.

everything i wanted by raindrops_0 (9k, T, gen, 5 + 1) Izuku turns to face Hitoshi and flashes a bright smile, eyes folding into crescent moons.Bright like the afternoon sun swallowing Hitoshi whole, bright like All Might’s fucking perfect grin, bright like he’s already a hero.Bright like everything Hitoshi has ever wanted and then more.(Hitoshi can’t help it, but he hates. Of course Izuku can smile as if the whole world is in his hands. He’s never had to fight for every little thing and be hated for it.)Or 5 times Hitoshi misjudged the golden boy of UA, and 1 time he finally understood.

hp/bnha 

Bend Before You Break by orkestrations (16.2k, T, gen) When Izuku set out for his morning run, the last thing he was expecting was to be plucked from his own world by magic and thrown into another universe entirely.Removed from his own conflict and with no way back, he sets himself to figuring out this world and its own incipient war while searching for a way to possibly reverse the spell that brought him here.It's just his luck that the year he arrives is the same year the government decides it's a great idea to bring back the potentially-deadly tournament.

[thexfridax]

Translated interview

Exclusive interview with Noémie Merlant and Adèle Haenel, lead actresses in ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’

Dariusch Tabatabaei, Netzwelt.de, 31st of October 2019

Additions or clarifications for translating purposes are denoted as [T: …]; I have used the English title of the film rather than the German one (see first question)

[T: Omitted intro and recap of the film]

‘The love story that the film tells is the creation of a love story. Both of the main characters reinvent love for themselves, and also for the future.’ Adèle Haenel, who plays Héloïse in ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’

[…]

Interviewer: The translation of the film [T: title in German] ‘Portrait of a Young Woman on Fire’ is not entirely correct. In French, it is ‘Portrait de la jeune fille en feu’, in German it is: ‘Portrait of a Young Woman on Fire’, [T: the former] is a definite article[, the latter is] indefinite. Do you think it makes a difference? Also, with regards to how viewers are going to interpret the film? [T: IDK, this was the weirdest first interview question I have read so far… but Adèle gives the best answer!]

Adèle Haenel: Wow… why would that make a difference? I think, it would have to make one. I don’t know. I don’t think it changes a lot. I even think that ‘a Young Woman’ is more global. The film is about a very specific love story, but it’s also one among many. A woman among so many! Every woman wants to be alive in this society. ‘The Young Woman’ is just the one, it is more heroic. I think, I like the German translation, because then we are all heroes.

I: To stick with the young woman on fire, which of your characters, Marianne (Merlant) or Héloïse (Haenel), is the eponymous woman on fire?

AH: I would say it’s Héloïse, if you look at the film poster, no? Especially because I was really set on fire during the shooting. But it’s a bit blurrier than that.

Noémie Merlant: I think, it is a shared love, shared art. So, if she [Héloïse] burns, then the fire spreads, and I burn as well.

I: Could you describe how both of these characters burn? Do they burn in different ways?

AH: Fire is something poetic, it is very complex. You can interpret it in many ways. You can say: ‘Oh, it’s ending soon’, or ‘It will never stop burning!’ It’s meant to be more poetic.

NM: The women in the film burn, because they have these desires. It’s part of the film that we live our desires, burn for them. But there are also regressions…

AH: There is something absolutely contagious, how love is a mixture of desires, desires that are talked about in the film, and [T: it also includes] arousal, intellectual arousal. Love is an adventure! It’s about creation. And all of this leads to [T: the fire] spreading. But it’s not like it’s choosing: That is the part of my life, which should burn. No, no, it’s spreading everywhere. That’s why I think we shouldn’t specify it so much…

But to talk about our characters, I would say even though they are different, they meet each other and completely change. Both Marianne and Héloïse do a U-turn [T: 180-degree 🤷], from the beginning to the end of the film. And we also talk about the echo of love in the film. You’re not only changed by it, but you also change your relationship to love. The love story that the film tells is the creation of a love story. Both of the main characters reinvent love for themselves, and also for the future.

I think, the film is also a great way to reinvent what a love story is. What happens after the love story? What happens during the time [T: when the love story takes place]? We learn that the love story does not just end because of this or that reason. In our situation, it’s [T: because of] the political structure of society. Even when it’s over, what do you do with this memory of love? How do you carry it in your heart? Invent your own relationship with love!

I: Ms Haenel, you have already worked together with the director Céline Sciamma, as you also were a couple, you know each other well. Whereas you, Ms Merlant, didn’t know the director, or rather have not worked with her. What is the advantage or disadvantage of knowing the director or not?

AH: It’s difficult to talk about this in general, it’s always about specific relationships. It depends on who you work with. I think with Céline […], it’s an advantage to be on the same path. I know what Céline is searching for, and I know how to do the best possible, so that I can be on that same path with her. And the way how she searches for beauty really moves me. That’s why I think it’s an advantage if you know each other. But I also think that it’s quite important and interesting to meet new people, like Noémie. She brings her own perspective and own mystery to the film, which creates a magical chemistry.

NM: Yes, it’s hard to say whether this changes anything. Céline is someone who… you know, there are people that you know well, but they are quite distant, and then it doesn’t work, and there are other people that you don’t know, but it feels like you’ve known them all your life. These people open borders, their arms and then it’s just… easy. It’s easy in the way that these people connect with you, because they are sincere, friendly and accommodating. Céline is also very clear about her ideas, open for suggestions and gives you everything you need. It’s a relaxed collaboration.

I: Do you have a ritual or similar that you always do before shooting?

AH: It’s just work, there is no specific ritual. That’s why I can’t answer your question. I truly believe in films, and I believe that you have to give your best, that’s why I only do films that I believe in. And that’s why I take the work on set very seriously…

NM mutters something to her with a grin: Sure, there is one thing that you do!

AH: What do I do? (She smiles and points at Noémie Merlant.) She seems to know.

NM laughs: You know! What you always do, before every scene…

AH: Ahh, …

Noémie Merlant circles with her hand around her face and has to laugh.

AH: Oh, I do some exercises with my face.

NM: Yes, or listen to certain music before a scene. It’s always different and depends on many things. There is nothing that I always do. But there are a couple of technical things that we all do most of the time. For example: (She is doing some stretching.) But nothing specific. If there are too many things in your head, it’s tougher. You have to turn inward and shake everything off, shake your body, your mouth, your eyes, your fingers, breath! …

AH: It’s like a sport.

NM: Yes, it’s about being in the here and now! Meditating, stretching, breathing exercises!

I: Thank you, before we conclude the interview, I would like to know if there’s any question that you always wanted to answer in an interview, but didn’t have the chance yet, because no one was asking it?

AH: Nope, we just wait for the questions and answer them. We don’t need anyone to ask us specific questions.

NM: Besides, you can somehow sneak in some answers, no matter what you’re asked. (She underlines this with a wavy [T: snake-like] movement.)

[T: The original interview was conducted in French/English and then translated to German… and now translated back to English. Circle of life 😁]

[angelinasway]

Regaining Hope

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers

Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut

Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

[TTH]  [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: I should first say that this takes place about eight and a half years after the first arc of the Season 8 Buffy Comics, however I’m only using aspects of cannon. The back story will not follow the comics as you will be able to see pretty quickly in this chapter. Secondly, I actually really do love Lois so please don’t bash me for being self-indulgent by wanting to see my two favorite Superheroes get together. I can promise you all that there will be no Lois bashing in this fic. Thirdly, as far as Clark’s story goes it follows Man Of Steel so if you’ve seen the movie you know his story. Thanks for giving this a chance I hope you all enjoy reading. Also thank you to my wonderful beta Hipkarma for giving this chapter a look for me. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Chapter One

Buffy lurched as the helicopter made touchdown onto the ice. She closed her eyes briefly, mentally preparing herself for what was sure to be a battle of wills between her and one Colonel Hardy. She hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet, but just by his photo she could tell he was going to be a pain in the ass. There wasn’t much love lost between the Watchers Council and the U.S military. Not since Maggie Walsh and the Initiative, and certainly not since General Voll. The Governments of the world as a whole always seemed to have a really bad habit of sticking their noses in things they just didn't understand, hence why she was here in the freezing Canadian Arctic in the first place. Willow had created a program that had been monitoring all military chatter since Voll decided to commandeer Amy and a skinlessly resurrected Warren to attack the W.C. Headquarters in Scotland. That had been almost ten years ago, and since then Buffy had been dealing with countless other countries attempting to harness power or create weapons out of a force that they just didn’t seem to understand could never be controlled. The U.S however, had managed to keep their noses pretty clean since General Voll, even going as far as to work with her and ask for her help when needed. That’s why it was such a surprise to find out that they had found something buried in the snow that predated civilization and were trying to keep it under wraps. Especially from the W.C. And to make matters worse, she was just coming off a week-long mission from hell. Just last week she caught Russia restarting their subspecies research facility and when the shit had finally hit the fan, she had been forced to send in a team resulting in the deaths of two of her girls. After that, she and Wesley had spent the next day getting a hold of the girl’s families, which of course left her holding a big-ol-bag of guilt and the nightmares and sleepless nights to go along with it. So, to say she was cranky and pissed to hear about the U.S. keeping stuff from her would have been an understatement. She was furious! However, she was also willing to give them the benefit of the doubt that maybe this actually wasn’t her jurisdiction. The Helicopter door slid open pulling her from her mental preparation. She blinked when her eyes met a pair of startlingly brilliant blues, surrounded by a handsomely rugged face, and scruffy beard. A green baseball cap adorned his head, hiding what she assumed from the few strands that were messily poking out of the brim was hair so brown it was almost black. He was probably somewhere in his mid-twenties, though on second inspection his eyes held the maturity of someone closer to her age. “Here let me help you.” He said loudly, so his voice could be heard over the whirling of the propeller and the grind of the engine. He held out a large gloved hand as she undid her seat belt and stood on unsteady legs. Her own gloved hand reaching for the strangers. As soon as her hand touched his however, she gasped, almost recoiling in fear, her inner Slayer rearing her head at the sudden sensation of power. And wow, was it powerful. She had never sensed anything like what was behind this man’s strong grip in all her years of slaying. It didn’t feel mystical in nature and it certainly wasn’t demonic. It was almost foreign, as if it didn’t belong here. Strength knew strength however, no matter where it originated from and her Slayer sensed him with a voraciousness that she had never experienced before. She felt a bit light headed and weak kneed by the sensation, and she had to shake her head to clear it of the roaring in her ears. Her eyes shot to his, widening in bewilderment and for a split second he had the look of a dear caught in the headlights. It was gone the next instant though, and a mask of a charmingly shy and unassuming guy replaced it. ‘Quick reflexes then, and someone who’s used to hiding in plain sight.’ The look worked well on him and she admired the quick cover. Only someone who had been living a double life could pull off a cover like that. Regardless of her admiration though, she needed to know if this guy was a threat or not. Especially with the way her Slayer was chomping at the bit and her heart pounding in her ears. So, she squeezed his hand slightly harder than she’d ever dare on someone human, just to let him know he wasn’t the only one standing there that was something other. It had the desired effect, though the fact that he didn’t wince was a little unnerving. His eyes shot to hers as she passed him, an innocent mixture of awe, curiosity, and fear burning in his irises. She knew then. He was no threat to her. The eyes were the windows to the soul and there was no doubt this man or whatever he was, had one. Plus, there was no way anyone could pull off a look that full of innocence if they had nefarious intentions. She removed her hand, breaking the overstimulation to her senses. She tried her best to cover what she had just felt by giving him a brilliant smile and winking conspiratorially. “Normally I would be worried about anyone carrying my bags considering how heavy they are, but something tells me it’s not gonna be a problem with you.” “Buffy Summers?” A new voice asked, distracting her from her assessment of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Muscular. She turned to meet the kind eyes of another man not much older than herself. "Hi." She said in greeting, reaching her hand out to shake. "Jed Eubanks, Arctic Cargo, nice to finally meet you, Miss Summers." Buffy raised an eyebrow in surprise, side eyeing Mr. Powerful for any reaction. "You heard of me?" She asked, watching the stranger’s reaction. When all she got was a look of curiosity and befuddlement her hackles finally lowered enough to completely believe that whatever or whoever he was didn’t have to do with her being here. Eubanks grinned, commanding her full attention as he said, “Little more than that, I was stationed in Afghanistan about five years ago. My chopper went down near Baghaln.” Buffy winced. “I remember that, a terrorist organization had commissioned hellhounds and were feeding their hostages to them.” “Saw you fighting that day.” He nodded. “Never seen anything like it in my life.” He paused, almost as if he was gathering up the courage to continue. “I was next in line you know, if it wasn’t for you and yours, I’d have been dog chow. I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life Miss Summers.” Buffy smiled softly at the man. It had been a while since she’d been thanked so sincerely. She linked her arm with his. “Call me Buffy, I’m sure I’m gonna have Miss Summers shouted at me enough today to give me flashbacks of high school.” Eubanks laughed. “Well, least you know you got one person rooting for you.” Buffy’s eyes traveled back to the mysterious stranger, who had been watching them with rapt attention. Questions, fear, and confusion still simmering in his eyes. She imagined it was very much similar to the look she was giving him, curiosity brimming over like an over flowing stream. She gave him a small nod of acknowledgment, hoping he understood it was her way of saying they would speak later, before she turned back to Jed and plastered on a huge smile. “Now show me where this camp is. The sooner I get this over with, the happier I’ll be.”

******

Clark watched the young blonde woman walk away with Jed, his heart galloping in his chest. She knew. Somehow, she was able to sense he was different. Part of him was horrified at the prospect of her walking into the basecamp below and announcing to the entire camp what and who he was. It was an old fear, one that had guided him and comforted him on cold lonely nights. If he just kept disappearing, no one would ever know the truth. Another part of him however, was beyond curious about her. How could she sense him like that, was she an alien too? When she squeezed his hand earlier it hadn’t hurt, but had he been a normal man it very well may have fractured a bone or two, and he doubted she just went around breaking people’s bones for the fun of it. No, she had definitely been testing his strength, which begged the question, how did she get hers? The military seemed to know her pretty well however, and even Jed himself had encountered her five years ago in Afghanistan. Which almost seemed impossible, because she really didn’t look much older than twenty-two. God, she was beautiful though, with those bright green eyes that looked older and far more tired than someone her age should be allowed to be. She was just the kind of girl he would have only dreamed of asking out when he was younger. He shook his head, finally forcing his eyes away from her retreating form, but keeping his hearing locked on her until he was sure he wouldn’t have to make a sudden and quick exit. He reached for the two duffle bags she brought with her, the first one pretty light and obviously full of clothes and toiletries. The second one however, was quite heavy and when he heard the sound of metal clanging against metal, he did a quick scan of the items in her bag and almost recoiled in shock. It was like a medieval arsenal in there, three sharp looking swords, a wicked looking red and silver axe, six daggers, four sharp looking wooden stakes, two flasks filled with some type of fluid, a cross, two pistols, a shotgun, and a pair of night vision goggles. ‘Who is this girl!’

******

“Colonel Hardy I presume.”  Buffy said with a saccharine smile, holding out her hand to shake. Not at all surprised when he didn’t return the greeting. She then turned to the elderly gentlemen to his right. Her smile softening in recognition. “Dr. Hamilton, how many times do we have to run into each other before I can convince you to ditch these macho elitists and come work for me.” “Miss Summers, always a pleasure.” He said with an amused smile, side eyeing Hardy’s annoyed frown. “I wasn’t aware that you had clearance for this project?” Colonel Hardy said a little too arrogantly.   Buffy’s smile grew, oh she was going to love putting this man in his place. “Oh, you wouldn’t, orders went through about,” She looked at her watch. “thirty minutes ago. You should probably be getting a call from General Swanwick any minute now.” Just as predicted, a young soldier came through the door the next second and Buffy couldn’t help the smug smile that crossed her lips. "Sir, General Swanwick is on SATCOM." It was immediate. The look of self-assurance morphed into pure annoyance within the span of mere seconds, and it was worth every bit of discomfort she was sure to receive in the next few days of her stay. Sure enough, Hardy did not disappoint. He excused himself and as he passed the officer he said, "Please ready Miss Summers accommodations and make sure they're as sparse as possible." Buffy chuckled in amusement, looking at Dr. Hamilton with a conspiratorial twinkle. "If he thinks making me crap in a bucket is gonna offend my delicate sensibility, he's mistaken." The Doctor chuckled, "I wasn't aware you had a delicate bone in your body Miss Summers." She snorted, "I hide it well." Her eyes then traveled to the scientific equipment obviously used for monitoring the anomaly. "So why don't you bring me up to speed on this find of yours, before Hardy comes back and attempts to make my life a living hell." Dr. Hamilton shook his head, leading her over to a computer screen with what looked to be a satellite image. "You do seem to enjoy ruffling their feathers." “Well, what can I say, never been much of a fan of authoritarianism. Also, not exactly easy to trust an entity that’s tried to have you killed more than once.” Buffy said, as she leaned over to get a better look at the dark blob like shape covered by layers of snow and ice. “So, what am I looking at? An Old Ones sarcophagus?” “We don’t believe its demonic in origin.” Dr. Hamilton stated. Buffy frowned in confusion, “But weren’t the samples of ice taken around the object more than twenty thousand years old? If it’s not demonic, what the hell do you think it is?” “A vessel Miss Summers,” Colonel Hardy said, walking back in the room. “A vessel not of this world.” Buffy blinked and turned around. “When you say not of this world, I’m assuming you mean…” Hardy’s smirk was patronizing. “That’s right Miss Summers, extraterrestrials. A spaceship. A topic I might add, that you know absolutely nothing about.” Buffy rolled her eyes, “Oh, as if you do.” “I know more than you Miss Summers.” Hardy responded indignantly. Buffy snorted in derision, her lip curling at this man’s stupidity. “So, what happens if you dig this thing up and you’ve got a violent alien that’s been sleeping in stasis for the last twenty thousand years?” Buffy shook her head. “Furthermore, I’ve seen Alien. What if the aliens inside crash landed on earth because a giant fucking Xenomorph is inside?” “I can assure you Miss Summers we’re taking every…” Buffy threw her arms in the air. Finally losing her patience. It looked like she was the one who was actually going to be doing the yelling today. This was just so typical, as if she didn’t have enough on her plate with Russia and Sudan creating their own Initiative-like secret facilities. “The fuck you are!” She shouted. “See this is the problem with you guys,” she pointed. “This is what happens, this is always what happens!” She started to pace, her fists clenched at her sides, uncaring of the sudden wary looks she was receiving by both Dr. and Colonel, as well as the few other scientists and soldiers in the room. “You discover something…for instance that demons and monsters exist, and instead of just killing it or leaving it the hell alone, you gotta study it, dissect it, see how it works, until eventually you’re trying to harness its power for yourselves!” She shook her head in disgust, “And do you wanna know who always has to clean up the mess? Me,” She pressed her fist against her chest, “It’s always me.” Her voice softened then, a sigh whistling between her teeth as her eyes locked on both a flabbergasted Dr. Hamilton and Colonel Hardy. Okay, maybe she went a little to far there. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame them for the previous week. “It’s not…If I was only dealing with this kinda stuff once in a while I wouldn’t be so cranky. I apologise for insinuating anything about anyone in this room.” She shook her head. “It’s just every single country on earth has their fingers in the demonic cesspool one way or another and I’m getting really sick of doing damage control on top of all my other Slayer duties, not to mention the lovely annual apocalypse that never really takes a vacation. Throw aliens in the mix now and the fact that I haven’t slept very well in a week and yeah, Buffy’s stress level just hit a new high.” Colonel Hardy’s disposition seemed to soften slightly at her words and he stepped forward, “I heard about Russia and am very sorry for your loss.” He sighed, “But we aren’t them, Miss Summers. I’m willing to play ball. Please let me be the first to promise, if we find anything that could be deemed even slightly dangerous as far as alien lifeforms go, we will hand it over to you immediately, without question.” She chewed on his words for a moment, figuring this was the best she was going to get as far as cordial cooperation went, and figured she throw out an olive branch so he knew she really wasn’t trying to step on his toes. “Yeah,” Buffy agreed, sighing with a nod. “Yeah, okay. And if it’s really just a ship I have no problem with giving you free rein on any alien technology you find. Just…just do me a favor, don’t make me regret this by killing us all with it.” Hardy cracked a smile then, “Alright Miss Summers, I think I can agree to that.” And surprisingly enough, he held out his hand to make it official.

****

Clark was more than impressed with the young woman who had pretty much wormed her way into his heart without her even knowing it. She was feisty as all hell; he'd heard her entire conversation and had been caught chuckling to himself a few times. Considering how quiet and reserved he normally was, the other guys on the crew were probably thinking he'd gone insane. There were a few things that were talked about that confused him however. Like her speaking about demons and monsters like they exist. Though, considering the fact that he existed, he wasn't all that surprised there could be something out there that was possibly a greater threat than even himself. He was just surprised he'd never run into anything of the sort before, especially considering how long he'd been traveling. Then again, he never really actively sought out situations where he was a savior, those situations usually just kind of found him. Buffy however, spoke as if she had been doing these types of things regularly for years. So much so, that not only was the military aware of her, but they had deemed her a threat on more than one occasion. He could certainly relate to that, for he knew if they had any idea of what he could do, they would do everything in their power to either try and kill him or use him as a weapon. And that was something Clark absolutely refused to have happen. It not only would disgrace his father’s memory, but it would spit on the very sacrifice John Kent made for him. When he was younger, he always thought that the fear his father sometimes wore on his face was because his father was afraid of him. It was one of the things that had led to the words he used the day his dad died. He remembered how frustrated he was that day; his father was being so stubborn about letting him go to college. He remembered thinking it was because his dad wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him anymore. That he was so afraid of his son hurting someone…that he would never let him leave Smallville. Then that tornado hit, tearing Clark’s entire world to shreds and he was never able to tell his dad he didn’t mean what he said. It was his father’s sacrifice that finally made him realize that all that fear and distrust he saw etched in his dad’s eyes was never directed at Clark at all. His father had always trusted him, it was mankind that he was so afraid of. So, revealing himself to the world was absolutely out of the question. However, for the first time in Clark’s entire life, he felt he might have someone else he could trust enough to confide in. The simple fact that she hadn’t told anyone what she suspected about him was almost enough to make him trust her. The fact that she didn’t want the military to get their hands on an alien, for fear of what they would use it for and the harm it could cause to the human race also helped greatly in making him want to trust her. She was incredibly cautious about how they should go about unearthing the vessel and spoke of bringing in a witch friend of hers to put a ward around it in case there was something dangerous inside. It truly was a sound plan; it would let them be able to open the ship without accidentally releasing some deadly creature or virus by mistake. It’s also the reason he was now changing his plans of waiting a few days before he went in search of the ship. He hadn’t known magic existed until a few minutes ago and he had no idea if he was vulnerable to it or not. He didn’t think so, but he sure as hell wasn’t willing to stick around and find out. As much as he agreed with Buffy’s plan and admired her caution, he knew in his gut that this might be his only opportunity to find out where he came from. Something deep inside of him told him that the answers he sought were on that ship. He dropped the bags off at her trailer after Jed had informed him which belonged to her, noticing how sparse the accommodations were. Just like Colonel Hardy had ordered. There was only a cot, blanket, pillow, space heater, and sure enough in the corner was a bucket and a roll of toilet paper. He shook his head in amusement, apparently this was not the first time she was forced to rough it. He could hear her and Colonel Hardy heading this way, discussing the ship and what other precautions might be taken to ensure that no one would get hurt. On an absolutely and unexpected whim, Clark pulled out the notepad he’d been keeping in the inside pocket of his jacket and wrote down the first thing that popped in his head. He didn’t know what made him do it, and he hoped she didn’t take it the wrong way. The poem was called “I am” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, and he didn’t really remember the entire thing, but the first verse had stuck with him. He quickly ripped the sheet of paper off the spiral, folding it, and tucking the sheet under her bag where just the edge could be seen. He stuffed the notepad and pen in his back pocket, getting to the door just as they were walking up. Their eyes found each other’s immediately, the intensity of her gaze sending an electric shock up his spine, his heart speeding up. God, those eyes of hers were like the color of the fields around the farm in spring. She raised an eyebrow in question at him but he just smiled politely and held the door open for her and the Colonel to pass as he slid by and down the steps. She followed his gaze and he found himself completely turning and walking backwards a few steps, before forcing himself to break contact and walk away. He was going to go talk to Jed, see if he could learn more about her. Plus, his shift was almost up and twilight was approaching. Soon it would be time.

******

When his gaze broke from hers it was like having a bucket of ice water doused on an over heated system. She stood there watching him walk away, her heart pounding in her chest, a loud rush of air she hadn’t even realized she was holding breaking from her lungs. Her nerves still tingled from the heat she felt in his gaze, and she was startled to realize she hadn’t had a reaction like that to the opposite sex in a very long time. Hell, she wasn’t quite sure she ever had a reaction like that, at least not one she remembered. She shook her head, turning back to the Colonel, only to notice he hadn’t missed the staring contest either. She thought he looked amused, but wasn’t quite sure. “Something I need to know about?” Buffy rolled her eyes, “I’m a red-blooded female. I’m allowed to notice a good-looking man when I see one.” The Colonel hummed, his green eyes accusatorily sizing her up. “Seems like he noticed you too.” Buffy’s eyebrows shot up and she frowned. “What exactly are you implying, Hardy?” “Just making sure you didn’t send a spy in close to gather information.” He answered seriously, eyeing her warily, as if she would do something like that so unnecessarily. She rolled her eyes, laughing at the absurdity of that statement. “Colonel, if I were to do something like that it would only be if I felt I was in danger, and I can guarantee it would be another Slayer and not some well-built, redneck, with puppy eyes. No one but the W.C. and the General knew I was coming, why would I risk the little bit of leeway I knew I would gain by showing up unexpectedly, and ruin it by having a spy already in your midst’s. Please do give me some credit.” Hardy shrugged unapologetically, leaning against the wall, “I still don’t understand how your people figured out about the find when we’ve only known about it for a week.” “Oh, so that’s what this is.” She said, raising an eyebrow and looked around the almost empty trailer. He smirked, “That’s what this is.” She shrugged, it didn’t really matter to her if he knew or not. She wouldn’t be sharing the technology no matter how much he tried to intimidate her. Not that she would actually be able to explain it anyway. “A friend of mine created a program that relies heavily on magic to monitor, decode, translate, and record when certain phrases or words are used in any and all military or government communication around the globe.” The Colonel’s eyes sharpened and she watched as his jaw clenched, a vein popping out on his forehead. “And I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share that little piece of technology would you.” Buffy shook her head, “Absolutely not. I’m not helping you war with other countries.” “And you call yourself some sort of hero.” He said snidely, heavy condemnation in his voice. “Do you have any idea how much something like that could help us?” Buffy froze, her back stiffening at his implications. She turned to him, her lips pursed and eyes as sharp as daggers. “It’s my job Colonel, to protect humanity. All of it.” She said, voice trembling just above a whisper in pure rage. “It is not my job to get involved with petty wars that mean very little when every year there’s some demon who gets the idea in his head to destroy every single one of us.” She pointed to the door, “I think its time for you to go now. Sun’s setting anyway, I hear it can get forty degrees below zero some nights.” Hardy frowned and opened his mouth as if to say more, but decided against it. Instead, he said, “Good night Miss Summers, will speak more about this tomorrow.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm, “No we really won’t. Despite what you may think, I’m not trying to hoard technology so I can be some kinda all-knowing God and rain judgment down on everyone. It’s the whole reason its only designed to pick out key words and phrases. I don’t want to know everything, but magic in the wrong hands is the most dangerous thing on this planet. It’s more dangerous than any demon I’ve ever faced or any God.” She sighed, removing her hand. “Trust me when I say, science will get there, you don’t need magic to move it along.” His frown deepened, before he seemed to sigh in defeat. He nodded once, then left her trailer without a word. Buffy sighed, hoping that was the end of that. She really didn’t want to have to keep explaining herself. She walked over and sunk down on the cot, reaching for the lighter of her bags and pulling out her satellite phone. She called Wesley first, knowing he would be waiting up for her to check in. She gave him a brief description of what had happened so far, leaving out the mystery man for fear of making him worry when he already had so much on his plate. Wesley agreed that Willow should be the one performing the warding spell around the ship, and agreed to make the necessary travel arrangements. Her next phone call was to Willow herself, and she smiled at the cheery voice that picked up. “Is the Arctic as cold as they say?” Buffy chuckled, “Yeah Wills, its pretty cold.” Then added, “But don’t worry, you’ll be experiencing it soon enough.” She could hear the frown on the other end of the phone, before an irritated whine escaped her friend’s lips. “But I don’t wanna go to the Arctic, you know how much I hate the cold.” Buffy chuckled, “Yes, but apparently they think they found a spaceship and we need you and your magical-witchy-talents to make sure no hibernating Xenomorphs escape and wreak havoc amongst the populous.” There was a long still silence, before the expected giddy meltdown on the other side of the phone. She heard a squeal of delight, before several vowels that sounded suspiciously like they should have been words. Buffy chuckled, “Breathe Willow, oxygen is of the good.” There were several panting breaths before, “Gods, Buffy do you know what a find like this could mean for us? The technology alone could help…” “Hold your horses there, Wills.” Buffy interrupted. “I already promised the U.S. that they could have the ship.” “Wait, what?” Willow protested. “Buffy if it hadn’t been for Voll joining up with Amy and Warren, those two would have never gotten powerful enough to join up with…” “I know Willow,” Buffy said, cutting her off before that train of thought could even be realized. “I’m just saying, why should we trust them when they’ve put us through so much?” Willow said, the pain and resentment clear in her voice. Buffy, sighed. “I don’t know Wills; guess I’m just getting more forgiving in my old age.” She paused, hearing Willow sigh sadly and knowing exactly where Willow’s thoughts were taking her. They had all suffered the consequences of General Voll raising Amy and Warren up from annoying nuisances, to actual threat. When they inevitably betrayed him, because that’s what happens when you align yourself with crazy, Amy and Warren had managed to gain enough clout to join up with a recently desouled Angelus, and together they had amassed an army of witches and demons alike. By the time anyone caught wind of what was going on it was already too late. Giles had been the first casualty in the chaos. Buffy freezing up when it happened, unable to even react to what her eyes were processing. Spike had been the one to pull her out, and for months he had been the one to push her to keep going. He had been her rock in that time, an unwavering support system without any expectations of what could possibly be if they made it out alive. Wesley and Illyria had joined the fold shortly after Spike's miraculous return, followed by a severely wounded Charles Gunn and an empath demon named Lorne. Buffy had offered Wesley the Head Watcher position, being too far gone in her grief of losing the man who was more like a father to her than her real dad ever was. However, it was losing Spike three months later that had fully pushed her over the edge. It was the only time in her life that she went completely dark, and it was Angelus who paid and then some. She had never thought herself capable of torture before that moment. Figuring she wouldn't have the stomach for it, but she'd been so very wrong. She had given her Slayer full control, and by the time she was finished with him there had been very little to stake. She remembered hating not just him in that moment, but Angel too. Years of pent-up emotional trauma caused by him leeching out of her as she bled him dry. Hatred and rage boiling inside of her at the fairytale romance they'd so naively convinced each other they had. It was never a fairytale; it had been a nightmare from the start. Even soulless Spike on his worse day would have never tried to break her so thoroughly. Angelus, in essence had succeeded in what he started so many years before. Except, instead of the broken pile of tears he expected would be the outcome of his mental torment, he got the broken primal force of the Slayer in full. He must have realized his mistake somewhere between her cutting out his tongue to shut him up and flaying his skin off the muscle and sinew because when she got to his eyes, they were full of the most potent fear she'd ever seen on a creature such as him. She remembered her Slayer purring in delight at the heady look of horror that was etched on his face, so unlike the arrogant knowingness he'd been giving her for hours. She remembered the feel of his sticky, coagulated blood as it spurted onto her face when she slowly pushed the blade into the brown pupil. The same eyes she had once thought so beautiful. She remembered how it felt to twist the knife until there was nothing left. The only sound Angelus able to make was a gargling, choking, scream. Buffy shook her head, banishing the gruesome memories to the back of her mind. She had disappeared for two years after that, running every few days to make sure no one could find her, too ashamed to face anyone. Wesley had finally found her in that broken-down, abandoned hovel, too weak to keep running.  He hadn't asked what happened, he'd simply taken her in his arms and held her. When she had eventually shattered completely, sobbing dry tears, because she was to dehydrated to produce any, Wesley had stroked her back, hushing her. He never once asked what happened, but she suspected he already knew. There was a haunted look in his eyes that told her he had danced that fine line once himself. “Buffy? Buffy are you there?” Willow asked, forcing Buffy out of her memories completely. “Yeah,” Buffy said, shaking her head and blinking several times. “Sorry, what?” “I said, is there anything else I should know?” Willow huffed, a worried edge to her voice. Buffy chewed on her lip for a minute, thinking of her handsome stranger. “Yeah,” She said again. “There’s definitely something else.” She was quiet for a long moment, before finally saying. “Look, I didn’t say anything to Wesley, because he’s dealing with a lot right now, but there’s this guy here and he's...well..." she paused, shivering slightly at the memory of his hand in hers. "He's like uber-powerful." "You mean like Glory and Illyria powerful?" Willow asked, the worry in her voice unmistakable now. "I mean, like take Glory and Illyria, put them in a pot, add a few other Old Ones, stir, and you got this guy." Now Willow sounded downright frightened. "You're kidding? And he's working for the military?" Buffy shook her head even though Willow couldn't see it. "No, he's actually working for the cargo company the military contracted." "Huh?" Willow said in confusion. "Yeah, and here's the thing, he doesn't feel like a demon, or even mystical. It’s almost like..." and that’s when it all began to click into place. Spaceship, uber-powerful guy working as a civilian near said recently discovered spaceship. Power that felt foreign to her, not other worldly, but out of this world. She froze, her eyes landing on a piece of paper tucked under her weapons bag. With a shaky hand she reached down and unfolded it, her eyes scanned the quickly scribbled words on the page. "Willow, I... I gotta go." Buffy said, hanging up before she could hear her friend’s protest. She reached for her weapons bag, unzipped it and pulled out her Scythe. The words of the poem repeating in her head. She thought about changing into her suit, but decided against it. She wasn't sure how much time she had, but the sun had set a while ago and she had a feeling if she didn't leave now, she'd never see her handsome stranger again. She donned her jacket and her beanie, throwing on a backpack already prepacked with survival supplies. She opened the door and ran full speed out into the night. The forgotten poem falling into the snow, the words bleeding out as the slush soaked the paper. 'I know not whence I came, I know not whither I go But the fact stands clear that I am here In this world of pleasure and woe. And out of the mist and murk, Another truth shines plain. It is in my power each day and hour To add to its joy or its pain.'

[Chapter Two]

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 21

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

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Whatever alcohol was present in her system evaporated alongside Chat Noir’s mask dissolving from his face. The moment the last bit of electric green disappeared, Marinette froze. 

It couldn’t be true. 

Chat Noir…

Chat Noir was Adrien?

Her Chaton was Adrien Agreste?

She stumbled back, barely able to breathe. A shiver ran down her spine as her body moved on its own, her hands covering her mouth in disbelief. 

Because this… this didn’t make any sense!

Her eyes must be deceiving her. 

Adrien couldn’t be Chat Noir! 

Chat Noir couldn’t be Adrien Agreste!

That was impossible!

It shouldn’t…

He watched her for what felt like an eternity. Her head spun, cold spreading to her very core. Adrien looked away, turning around. She couldn’t move, her body gripped by an invisible force. He called for his transformation and walked to the balcony’s door. Marinette couldn’t utter a single sound. Chat vanished into the night, but she continued to stand in her place barely breathing. 

Chat Noir was Adrien Agreste!

Chat Freaking Noir was…

Chat…

Something pinched her cheek, the pain bringing her out of the trance.

“Are you alright?” Tikki hovered at her eye level, her eyes big and blue and filled with worry.

“No,” Marinette whispered, sinking to the floor. Her body trembling, she clutched her hands together. “Chat is Adrien. Did you see, Tikki? Chat Noir is Adrien Agreste.”

“Yes. I saw that.” 

“Chat… is Adrien…” 

Chat Noir’s words that confused the heck out of her just a few moments ago suddenly made a whole lot of sense. She couldn’t remember everything he’d let out, but there was one bit that popped right at the top of her mind.

 The truth, Marinette, is that you are the one who doesn’t love me.

 Her heart tightened, breathing shallow and quick. 

That wasn’t true! 

She loved Chat! She loved him with her whole heart. 

Adrien? Gosh! If the last few weeks could prove anything it was that Marinette was still very much unable to resist him. Falling in love with Adrien must be in her genes or something, and she wasn’t talking solely about physical attraction. She loved his soul, his character, his kind heart. She loved the person he was, not just his looks. Otherwise, there would be no need to cut him off as cruelly and unequivocally as she'd done in order to stay faithful to Chat Noir.   

Her vision blurred. Marinette swallowed the lump in her throat, her gaze falling onto the dining table. The candles burned low in the middle alongside a cheese platter, a bowl of grapes, and a bottle of wine with two glasses set by each place setting. He was a horrible cook, but he’d tried his best to prepare at least something for her when she was too busy partying to do it herself. 

Her stomach dropped, every muscle in her body numbing. He'd given her a place to live basically for free when officially they were still enemies. He’d instituted a curfew and opened a cafeteria at work to keep her alive and healthy. Marinette closed her eyes, swallowing her pride. Sooner or later she had to admit it. 

He did it solely for her.

When she wasn’t taking care of herself, Adrien used whatever power he had to keep her nourished and rested to help her recover her sanity and health… all while they were still at odds with one another.

 I should've been smarter than to help you again as soon as I saw you struggling. But, no! I just had to rush in with my help, all while you despised me so much you couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with me for more than five minutes!

 The beating of her heart echoed in her ears, images of Adrien popping in front of her eyes. 

Adrien trying his best to be friendly and help her at work. Adrien apologizing for his mistakes and going above and beyond to earn her forgiveness. Adrien smiling and laughing with her. Their easy conversations in the last few weeks. His eagerness and his sincerity in trying to win her friendship again. The comfort of his company. Subtle glances she hadn't missed. The fire they ignited in the pit of her stomach. The hurt that filled his eyes at her outburst at the after-party.

Marinette curled in on herself, wrapping her hands around her head. A pitiful moan escaped her lips. It all made sense now. 

 I’ve tried so hard for you to like me.

 Was this why he shied away after the reveal? Was this why he doubted her feelings? Was this why he refused to kiss her? Because she claimed to love him in the mask while pushing away his civilian self?

 Stupid, brainless, and pathetic because despite knowing everything, knowing you hated me and knowing you’d never forgive me… I still managed to fall in love with you. 

 Her eyes snapped open. She stood hastily, catching herself on a nearby chair when her feet fumbled underneath her. “I have to go to him.”

Tikki zoomed to her face. “Marinette, no. Please, don’t rush into anything. It never ends well when you do that.”

“But, Tikki, I have to. He’s my partner and he’s hurting. I hurt him. I have to go—” 

“He’s your partner who is also Adrien. And Adrien would expect you to answer his question the next time you see him. Are you ready to give him an answer now?”

“What question?”

“Can you look Adrien in the eyes and tell him that you love him without the slightest doubt? Can you trust him with your heart again?”

She was about to scream ‘Yes!’ She had forgiven him. She was certainly attracted to him. She enjoyed his company and loved the man he had become. 

Was it enough, though, for the kind of love she knew he wanted? 

Could she look at him and tell him she loved all of him with all of his faults and with their history? More importantly, could she trust him enough to open her heart and give him a chance? Because the “can’t fully trust you” bit Marinette threw at Adrien back at the after-party wasn’t as baseless as it seemed. She might have forgiven him, she might have been falling in love with him, but building back the trust they once shared required time that simply hadn’t passed yet.

Was she ready for the kind of commitment Adrien wanted and deserved?

Marinette couldn’t say. She wasn’t sure. Making that choice at this moment terrified her. 

“You have to be careful with this,” Tikki said, gently cuddling her holder’s cheek. “There’s a lot at stake. His heart is at stake. Yours too. Please. I don’t want you two getting hurt anymore. I'm not sure either of you can handle any more of the heartache, and we both know that when you act on an impulse, you tend to overreact and say or do things you don’t mean. So, please, Marinette. Don’t rush. Calm down. Think about it and, only when you’re absolutely certain in your decision, act.”

Shaking, Marinette closed her eyes, weaving her arms around her torso. “I have to talk to him, Tikki.”

“And you will. But take some time to figure out your feelings first. This might be a life-changing decision for both of you. Please, don't take it lightly. Don't act recklessly when it’s someone’s heart on the line.”

Marinette looked at Tikki, but images of others stood before her eyes. Alya. Nino. Adrien. Perhaps, even her own parents. Who knew how many more. All the times she hurt those she loved, acting impulsively, without thinking, following her temper, trying to prove herself right or achieve what she wanted, turning a blind eye to the needs and desires of others. She really had become like Gabriel Agreste, and she didn't like it. 

Unlike Gabriel, though, she still had the time and a chance to change. Innately, she was a good person and meant well; her heart was sure of it. But Tikki was right. Good intentions could and would turn horribly wrong if executed poorly. That much Marinette had learned quite well recently. And after a few insanely busy months of work, fresh off the rollercoaster of emotions that was this day and still somewhat tipsy after the party, Marinette was not in a state to think clearly right now. No matter how much she hated the idea, it would be better indeed for Marinette to resist her urge to go after him. She had to handle this carefully. This wasn’t a game.

“You need to recover, both physically and emotionally first.” Tikki continued on. “Pass your ESMOD exam. Isn’t it the day after tomorrow?”

Marinette nodded. “This Friday. I still need to read some of the material.”

“Then, focus on that for now. Afterwards, you’ll have a clear mind and the whole weekend to think before you have to see Adrien at work on Monday. That should be enough time to at least get an idea of how you want to move forward.”

“Perhaps, you’re right,” Marinette responded barely audibly, absentmindedly sitting at the table. Pulling one of the candles to herself, she cradled it in her palms. The flame fluttered on the candle’s wick, claiming her gaze and attention as the two men she now knew to be one merged together in her mind. 

It wasn’t just Adrien anymore who went behind her back and betrayed her trust, daring to compromise her biggest dream, even if with the best of intentions. 

No. 

That man was now also Chat Noir. 

But it also wasn’t just Chat Noir with whom she’d fought akumas for a decade, who comforted her when she was hurting, who was her best friend and always, always understood and supported her. It wasn’t just her Chaton anymore with whom she could trust her life without a doubt. It wasn’t just her partner anymore who had been proving his love for her daily for years. Who had died multiple times, protecting her!

It was also Adrien. 

Marinette closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. She needed time to come to terms with this, to find sense, to fully grasp the truth she wanted so badly but turned out to be more than she could handle at the moment.

“You should go to bed,” Tikki said, blowing out the candles in the middle of the table. “It’s past midnight already.”

“I should,” Marinette echoed and picked up the still lit candle in front of her. The flame flickered, dancing around. Beautiful. Warm and life-giving, yet so extremely dangerous at the same time. It called and mesmerized. Were she to answer its call, she would be burned. Was she ready to answer Adrien, knowing that her answer could burn them both should she be too careless?

She was too tired to know the answer herself. 

With a single breath, Marinette extinguished the flame and followed Tikki to her bedroom.

***

The sun peeked over the horizon. Marinette groaned under her covers, shifting onto her stomach. Hugging her pillow, she buried her face into it, hiding her eyes, red and puffy from hours upon hours of tossing and turning and quietly crying in between, from the light. None of the tricks she knew had helped her fall asleep. The blissful oblivion of a dreamland felt farther away with each passing moment as a single thought hammered at her mind relentlessly.

She had to talk to him. 

Yes, she had agreed that it was better for her to stay away until she was calmer, sober, and sure of her feelings and desires. She had to act carefully as not to hurt him again but… Wouldn't he take her silence for an answer? Wouldn't her not reaching out tell Adrien that she wanted neither him nor what they had between themselves back in her life? She didn't want him to think that. She hated the idea.

“Tikki?” Marinette murmured into the silence of her room. 

The kwami hummed and raised her head from the pillow beside her. 

“I was thinking. Maybe I can send him a message? Just to tell him that I need time to think? You know, so he isn't left in the dark and doesn't start assuming things?”

“A message?” Tikki blinked sleepily at her.

Marinette propped herself on her arms, her mind clearer than at any point of the last few days. “Yes. A key to a good relationship is communication, right? So I think we should start to communicate. I don't want him to think I’m giving up and moving on. I want him to know I’m taking this seriously, and I just need time to figure things out. Or something like that.”

Tikki’s smile was gentle and loving, as she flew closer to Marinette. “That’s a great idea. You can transform and leave him a message on his communicator. Plagg will let him know.”

A hint of hope filling her chest, Marinette cradled Tikki in her palms, nuzzling her little face. “I don't want to mess this up again. I love him.”

“Something tells me you will do just fine this time around. Now, transform and leave him a message. You’ll need to catch at least some sleep if you want to pass that exam.”

“Right.” Marinette got out of bed. The array of colours in the sky outside her window were breathtaking. A new day. Another chance. She wouldn't mess this one up. She would take into account her every mistake and do much better this time around. And she would start it with a message to her Chaton, a few words that hopefully would make him feel better.

Determination in her eyes, Marinette never turned away from the rising sun as she commanded, “Tikki, spots on!”

***

Thursday, Marinette buried herself under the reading materials needed to pass her exam. She struggled to keep her concentration, Adrien being constantly on her mind. Friday, she did a quick review in the morning and headed to ESMOD in the afternoon. The lucky charm Adrien gave her was the only object apart from a water bottle on her desk during the examination. Upon exiting the building afterwards, he was the first person she wanted to tell that it was easier than she’d expected, that after years of experience she knew her stuff, and if there were a few questions she didn’t know, Marinette doubted the holes in her fashion history knowledge would greatly impact her final marks. Unfortunately, she wasn’t ready to face him yet. She texted the next best person.

 Marinette: All done. I should know the results in a few days, but I’m feeling pretty confident about this.

Alya: Congrats, girl! I’m sure you passed with flying colours and I expect a party when you get your diploma. 

Marinette: LOL Of course. We’ll invite half of Paris and make lots of noise about it.

Alya: Don’t know about half of Paris, but Nino, me and Adrien better be there. You two did start talking again, didn’t you? And I mean not just business-related topics.

Marinette: It’s a bit complicated at the moment.

Alya: Complicated enough to exclude the man who requested and paid for your ESMOD exam?

 Marinette stilled, looking at her cell phone in confusion. Was she too exhausted after her test to read properly or were her eyes deceiving her? 

 Marinette: What are you talking about?

Marinette: Weren’t you the one to get me an exam through some of your contacts? 

Marinette: And what payment?

Alya: I did snoop around and found out that in your case only your direct supervisor could request the exam you needed under the “obtaining extra qualifications” program. There was also a hefty fee to go along. I told Nino. Nino mentioned it to Adrien. What magic Adrien performed I don’t know, but a few days later he texted me with the information to pass to you. 

 Marinette reread Alya’s messages at least three times before sitting down on a nearby bench. 

Was there anything good in her life recently that Adrien wasn’t involved in? 

Because it seemed that without him, she’d be in a whole different place right now. Her success, her promising future, her wellbeing, her health, perhaps even her very life—she owed that all to Adrien. 

 Alya: Plus, he brings the best wine and cheese. You simply must invite him!

 Marinette gripped her phone, debating. Telling Alya the truth was out of the question. Avoiding the subject it was, then.

 Marinette: Let’s wait for the results first. 

Marinette: About to go underground. Ttyl

Alya: Love you, girl. And let me know as soon as you get those results so I can start planning.

Marinette: Of course. <3

 Her cellphone back in her purse, Marinette descended into the Metro station. The trip back to the apartment didn’t take long. Adrien haunted her thoughts the whole way. 

He did so much good for her. As Chat Noir and as Adrien. And he didn’t seem to expect anything in return. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be doing it all behind her back. 

A few months ago Marinette would have assumed Adrien was helping her only because he didn’t think she could handle it herself, but she couldn’t say that anymore. Not when she knew Adrien and Chat Noir were one and the same. Marinette knew too well how much Chat respected her and her abilities. He helped her in battles, but he never did her job for her. He always acknowledged her competence, openly admitting that out of the two of them, she was the one best fitted for Ladybug’s role with all the skills and responsibility it demanded. 

Similarly, Adrien didn’t design or sew her collection for her. She did. He just hired her an assistant and made sure she was physically and mentally capable of doing the work herself. Adrien might have gotten her that exam, but she was the one who studied and took it. His help didn’t diminish her achievements and the more Marinette thought about it, the more grateful she felt, shame for the way she treated him in return overwhelming her at the same time. 

She had to make it right! And she had to find a way to do so quickly.

Entering the apartment, Marinette glanced in the kitchen’s direction in confusion. The light was on. Hesitantly, she entered the room but it was empty. Her sight fell to the table. A white envelope and two small boxes rested on its surface, accompanied by a small bag and a note. She picked up the note first, her heart quickening its pace. She knew that handwriting.

 I put some grapes for Duusu in the fridge for the first few days. He prefers the green, sweet variety in case you need to buy more.

 Marinette reached for the bag, finding nothing but good quality silk cut in pieces inside with another note indicating those were for Nooroo. Next, she opened one of the boxes. An electric orb erupted in front of her, a peacock kwami appearing in the middle. 

“Duusu?”

“At your service, My Guardian.” The kwami bowed.

Marinette reached for the second box, the butterfly kwami soon joining them.

“We missed you so much,” Tikki cried, flying in for a group hug with her long-missing friends. “I’m so happy you both are safe.”

She gave the kwamis a few moments to themselves. Once the initial emotions subsided, Marinette reached forward and pulled them all to her chest.

“Welcome back, guys,” she whispered. “We’ve missed you. Let’s get you into the Miracle Box. I’m sure all of your friends can’t wait to see you again.”

She quickly put both miraculouses into their slots in the Miracle Box, sending everyone and Tikki to the kwamis’ space to celebrate. Once alone, Marinette went back to the dining room. Her eyes focused on the only object left on the table she hadn’t touched yet—the letter. 

There was only one person who could’ve delivered Nooroo and Duusu. The letter must also be from him. She reached for it, jerking her hand back almost immediately. Marinette bit her lip, trying to touch the letter again. A shiver ran down her back. She withdrew again. A few moments and a couple of other failed attempts later, Marinette jumped to her feet and paced the room. Her breathing shallow, she tried to calm down and muster the courage.   

What was in it?

What did he write?

Did he curse her name?

Was he leaving a door open for her?

Why was she so terrified of reading it?

“You can do it. You can do it. You can do it, Marinette!” she chanted before snatching the envelope off the table and opening it before she could overthink it again.

 Good evening, Marinette.

I apologize for the intrusion. I know you said you needed time to think and I respect that and will wait no matter how long it takes. However, I promised to deliver Nooroo and Duusu to you and this was the only way I could think of doing so safely and without us meeting. There are also a few things I owe to tell you. That night, you asked me for the whole truth, but I delivered only some of it. A letter seems like the most appropriate method for the rest.

Before, though, I want to apologize for my outburst. My actions and words that night were unacceptable and I said things that I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for hurting you, and I know I can't fix anything now, but I wanted you to know that despite what it may have sounded like, I don't blame you for anything. Shit happens. We all make mistakes. Some are just impossible to fix and I could never blame you for not trusting me because of my own actions.

Now, the whole truth you wanted. I won’t discuss my identity in depth. There is really not much to it. My name is Adrien Agreste. I received the Black Cat miraculous when I was fourteen and have been Chat Noir ever since. 

My father. I found out that he was Hawkmoth when I visited the mansion for those sketches you needed. I stumbled upon the butterfly miraculous in one of the drawers in his desk. Nooroo then told me about the peacock miraculous my father kept in his safe, and that Nathalie, my father’s assistant, used to be Mayura. I didn’t know either of those things before that evening, and I wish I’d never found out, but knowing my father, I was hardly surprised. 

Lastly, Felix. My cousin, Felix Graham de Vanily, lives in London and is a skilled designer, but he wasn’t the one who was assisting you these past few months. The truth is—I couldn’t find a qualified assistant for you in time, so I figured I could use Nooroo’s power to make up for my incompetence. Long story short, I akumatized myself into ‘Felix’ so I could use his skills to help you. I hope you can forgive me for that. I swear, if I could have found you a real assistant in the time frame I had, I would’ve, but it wasn't happening and time was pressing and I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for the mess ‘Felix’ was. Unfortunately, being an akuma, I couldn’t control my actions and words, and I know I made you uncomfortable far too many times as ‘Felix’. I’m sorry about that. ‘Felix’ won’t be returning so you don’t have to worry about him anymore. The HR department will find you a new assistant soon. 

I guess that’s it. That’s all of my secrets, the whole truth. 

I dare, though, to ask you for a favour. I know as a Guardian, it’s your duty to gather all of the miraculouses back into the Miracle Box, but I beg you to allow me to keep Plagg. He’s been by my side for most of my life. He’s my best friend, the only family I still have. I can’t give him up. Not yet. I know there will be a point in time where I’d have to, but if I may, I’d like to hold onto him for now. I can keep you updated on his whereabouts at any given time, so you’ll be able to claim him if the need ever arises, but I’d really appreciate it if you can grant us some more time together.

One more thing, I’m sorry for what happened on that terrace. I never meant to push you to cheat on your “boyfriend”. I only wanted you to like me. I wanted you to see potential in me, so that when I revealed my identity later, you wouldn't reject me straight away. I didn't plan to kiss you. I just wanted to spend some time with you and got caught up in the moment. And I’m so, so sorry for that. I just can’t seem to think straight when it comes to you. And I don’t know if this matters anymore, but for what it’s worth, I avoided kissing you as Chat Noir not because I didn’t love you, Marinette, but because I knew you’d hate to kiss Adrien. I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t let you kiss the person you hate just because he had a mask on his face. 

I’m sorry if my feelings have been too much of a nuisance. I would completely understand if you decide to move on, and if that is the case, I won’t be bothering you anymore. Adrien won’t be coming back to Gabriel. Chat Noir will vanish as well. I love you too much to keep hurting you, and it seems that’s the only thing I do every time I get close. 

Please, forgive me. I never meant any harm. Thank you for everything you’ve given me. I’ll treasure every memory with you forever.

Adrien.

P.S. Good luck with your ESMOD exam. You'll do great!

P.P.S. Just thought I’d mention that you can stay at the apartment for as long as you need. I don’t use it anyway, and I don’t think I’ll be using it any time soon. When you decide to move out, leave the keys on a table and tape a note to the window, facing the writing outside. I’ll see it eventually.

 Tears pooling in her eyes, Marinette couldn’t look away. 

That idiot!

He did what? 

Doesn’t he know how dangerous—

No! It couldn’t be true! Could it?

She rushed back to the Miracle Box and took out Nooroo’s miraculous. 

“Tell me this isn’t true,” she demanded, as soon as the kwami appeared. “Tell me Adrien didn’t akumatize himself daily for months.”

 His mouth slightly ajar, Nooroo stared at her wide-eyed for a few moments before guiltily bowing his head. “He did.” 

Marinette groaned, facepalming. “How stupid could he get? Doesn’t he know how dangerous it is? There is a reason there are always two people involved in akumatazation. He could’ve easily lost control and endangered all of us.”

“Master Adrien knew the danger,” Nooroo shyly added. “That’s why he asked Plagg to keep him in line.”

“Plagg? Plagg is a kwami. How could he keep an akuma in line?”

“Master Adrien used a very fragile object for the akuma to infect, something that Plagg could easily break when needed.”

She quirked an eyebrow. That was actually very clever. “What object?”

“Your picture.”

Marinette stilled, silently staring at Nooroo for a full half-minute before uttering, “My picture?”

The kwami nodded. “Master Adrien said that because his goal was to help you, it only made sense to use your picture. In a way, he was also counting on it to keep his akumatized self from seeking other goals which, honestly, wouldn’t be an issue anyway because Plagg could de-akumatize him at a moment’s notice if he’d strayed to something different.”

Marinette sat on her bed. "By tearing up the object, in this case, a picture, right?"

“Yes.” Nooroo smiled. “Plagg had lots of fun doing that. I suspect that’s the only reason he agreed to the whole ordeal in the first place.”

“To rip up some paper?”

“Not exactly.” Nooroo chuckled. “You see, as expected, Master Adrien as an akuma didn’t want to leave your side, trying to help you with everything he could. However, he had other responsibilities, so he couldn’t afford to do that. After a few days of failing to control his ‘help Marinette’ urges, Master Adrien allowed Plagg to do whatever it took to get him out of the room and de-akumatize him at an appointed time.” Nooroo grinned. “Plagg tried different approaches and soon discovered that Master Adrien is very ticklish. Since then, all he had to do was to start tickling him and when Master Adrien couldn’t take it anymore, he’d leave the room to get rid of the annoyance. Once in a hallway, though, Plagg would tear up the picture and Master Adrien would be de-akumatized.”

Marinette couldn’t help a snicker, a lopsided smile sneaking onto her lips. 

This. 

This actually explained so much. Like why ‘Felix’ was so overbearingly helpful with everything. Obsessively, even. Or why he would never warn her that he was leaving, instead vanishing without as much as a goodbye. Or why he seemed to always be extremely uncomfortable right before disappearing. After a while, Marinette had just assumed he had some kind of a health issue and since it wasn't her place to pry, she'd decided ‘Felix’ would tell her when and if he wanted to. The real reason behind his strange behaviour was way too hilarious for her not to laugh. 

Who would’ve thought that it wasn’t some secret disease but a pesky kwami tickling his idiot of a wielder to get him out of the room?

The space filled with giggles, her eyes with tears, Marinette laughed. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to see the process of his de-akumatization! Adrien probably looked so adorable after being forced to release the butterfly and drop the transformation. Dishevelled, disoriented, and lost like a kitten. A moment later, he’d be sporting a kicked puppy look, glaring and pouting at his smug kwami, yet unable to do anything because he was the one to ask for it. That would’ve been quite a sight to behold.

“He’s such a dummy,” she giggled. “What was he thinking?” 

It was a rhetorical question, one Marinette didn’t expect an answer to, so when Nooroo gave her one, she froze.

“He was thinking of you. Master Adrien was always thinking of helping you, akuma or not. I just gave him the means to do what he wanted.”

Unable to look away, Marinette stared at Nooroo for a short while before dropping her eyes to her hands, clenched together in her lap. “Why? He didn’t know I was Ladybug when he started helping me. I was just a girl who hurt him. Who considered him an enemy for years and wanted nothing to do with him. Why would he go to such lengths to help me?” 

“I might have an answer to that,” Tikki said, flying closer. “Do you remember how the Black Cat’s miraculous wielder is chosen, Marinette?”

Her eyebrows knit in a frown, as Marinette tried to recall Master Fu's lessons. Ladybugs were chosen based on their ability to think outside the box and see things differently. People called it "creativity" but it was so much more than that.  

Black Cats were chosen… 

Her heart quickened its pace, eyes widening a fraction. 

Black Cats were chosen based on the purity of their hearts. It didn’t mean they were perfect and never made mistakes, but it took a really strong and immeasurably kind person to contain the destruction that Plagg embodied. 

With a groan, Marinette fell on her bed face up. She closed her eyes, letting memories flood her mind. She’d fallen in love with Adrien because of his kindness. She’d fallen for Chat because of his loyalty. The man she was getting to know these last few months was still just as kind and loyal, going beyond his abilities to help an estranged and bitter girl who had hated him for years. 

Her eyes filled with tears. How blind and stupid and completely unreasonable she was. How far gone in her resentment she must have been to doubt his intentions. She knew Adrien. She knew how kind and innocent and loving he was. Then why? What happened to her to get them here?

Most importantly, would he ever forgive her?

Because she loved that man. She loved him so much it hurt. 

“I have my answer, Tikki,” Marinette whispered into the silence of the room. 

“You do?”

“Yes. I love him, and I know I can trust him. All of him. With my life.”

“How about your heart?”

Marinette propped herself on her elbows and looked at Tikki, a smile gracing her lips. “Absolutely.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am. I know it won’t be a smooth ride and we’ll need to figure stuff out and work on it, but if he’ll have me, I’m more than willing to give us another chance and will do whatever it takes to make us work.”

Tikki smiled, leaning against Marinette’s cheek and snuggling. “Good. I’m glad you’ve made a decision you’re happy with.”

“We should go see him now. He’s been waiting long enough.”

Tikki closed her eyes and concentrated on something for a few moments before smiling apologetically at Marinette. "Plagg isn't in the ring, meaning Adrien isn't transformed.”

“You can feel him? Can you tell me where to find him?”

Tikki shook her head. “I can only feel Chat Noir’s energy. That’s how you can locate him with Ladybug’s yo-yo. But unless Adrien transformed, I wouldn't be able to pick up anything. Built-in identity protection.”

“Then maybe I can…” 

Oh, crap.

She didn’t have his contact information. They exchanged neither phone numbers nor emails because at first she didn’t want anything to do with him, and later it never came up. Adrien was always available at the office should she need him. Chat visited her daily and she could contact him through their communicators when he was transformed. Marinette could probably ask Alya or Nino for his number, but she didn’t really want to involve them. Alya was sure to pry and Marinette didn’t want to answer any questions before she and Adrien had a chance to talk. Plus, talking face to face would probably be the best option in their situation. 

‘Okay, then. We can get his number from the office tomo—” Marinette groaned, closing her eyes. “It's Friday. The office is closed until next week.”

“I can let you know if I sense Chat Noir if you want.”

“Thanks, Tikki. That’ll be great. And if not then I guess, we’re getting his number on Monday.”

Tikki placed a tiny kiss on Marinette’s cheek. “I’m proud of you, Marinette. You’ve grown so much.”

Marinette snuggled the kwami close. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course you could have,” Tikki smiled. “After all, you’re Ladybug. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“Only if I have my partner by my side,” Marinette added. “There’s a reason our miraculouses are the only ones that come in a pair, isn’t there, Tikki?”

The kwami let a smile split her mouth as she nodded. “There absolutely is.” 

Unlike the previous nights, today Marinette slept soundly. Her mind made up, she dreamed of how their meeting would go, what she’d say, how Adrien would react. Would he forgive her? Would he finally kiss her now that there were no more secrets between them and he knew she didn’t hate him?

***

The morning brought more pleasant surprises—an email from Sofia Tentazione, a representative for Muï Muï, a fashion house Marinette loved probably just as much as Gabriel. She’d met Sofia at Gabriel’s afterparty and they exchanged contacts, but Marinette had never expected to hear from her. And yet, now she was staring at an email in which Sofia was asking if Marinette would be available to come in for an interview with their head designer in Milan next Wednesday. At the bottom of the email, the postscript stated that as long as Marinette showed up to that interview, she was guaranteed a job at Muï Muï. Apparently, the head designer hadn’t been so impressed with someone’s work in a long time and didn’t even bother hiding his intentions to scout Marinette for himself. The interview was supposedly scheduled only to comply with the house’s hiring process.

“Tikki, am I still asleep?”

“I can check.” Tikki nonchalantly flew closer with a wide grin on her face.

Marinette jerked away, glaring at the kwami. “No, thank you. I know the way you check. I had a bruise for a week last time you checked.”

"You were definitely awake at that time."

“And I’m perfectly awake right now. No pinching required.”

“Why did you ask for it then?”

“I didn’t. I’m just shocked. I have a job offer from Muï Muï! Can you believe it?”

“That’s great,” Tikki smiled, before turning serious. “Will you take it?”

Of course! 

Why would Tikki even ask? Isn’t it why Marinette almost killed herself trying to get the collection done? To get a good job offer from someone so amazing in her situation was nothing short of a miracle.

Why wouldn’t she take it?

Yet something nagged at her. She hesitated. 

“I… I don’t know. I mean, this is a great opportunity, and this is what I wanted, but… I’d have to move to Milan.”

“And leave Adrien behind,” Tikki added.

Marinette bit her lip, every nerve ending in her body tingling. Tikki was right. Adrien wouldn’t move for her. She had no right to even ask that of him. He had a job and his father’s company to take care of in Paris. He couldn’t just abandon it all and move to a different country only to see if they could make it work. 

If he wanted to see if they could work in the first place. 

The truth hit her hard. All the happy fantasies she’d dreamt up last night disappearing, replaced by fear and guilt. Why would he even want her after the way she treated him? Adrien wasn’t a fool. Why would he risk it when all she did was hurt him? In fact, he wouldn’t. He said it himself in that letter—despite still loving her, he was willing to step away because he couldn’t bear to hurt her anymore. 

Her heart ached. Even in this, he was thinking of her first. Was he even real? She certainly didn’t deserve his love. Perhaps this job offer was her answer then. She’d move away and it’d be easier for both of them to get over each other and find happiness with someone else.

She swallowed back the lump in her throat, a low tremor running down her spine. Funny. This situation resembled their first argument so much—she had to choose between him and her career then, too. Only now that amazing job offer in Milan wasn’t nearly as appealing to her as an uncertain chance with a man who might not even want her at this point. 

“Another huge decision to make?” Tikki asked.

“Seems so.”

Tikki flew up, hovering right at Marinette's eye level. "I'm sure you'll make the right decision, Marinette. Just think what will make you happier in the long run."

Marinette chuckled sadly. “So basically, the old cliché ‘Follow Your Heart, Marinette’?”

Tikki nodded. “Yes. Old, cliché, and very true. Look deep into your heart and listen to what it has to tell you. That’s the best thing you can do.”

And that was what Marinette did. She shut her phone off, signed out of her social media and email accounts, and took long walks at the local park, thinking, reflecting, and trying to see what it was she really wanted. It took her almost two days, but Sunday evening Marinette was confident she had found her answer. She turned her laptop back on, and replied to Sofia, agreeing to the interview. 

Then, she took a sheet of paper and wrote a letter to Adrien. She wasn’t sure she could face him right now, but she had to tell him what was in her heart. A letter it was.

Monday morning, Marinette came by Adrien’s office to drop off said letter only to be told that M Agreste wouldn’t be back there any time soon if at all. Luckily, on her way out she ran into his family lawyer who let it slip that he was to meet with Adrien in a few hours at an undisclosed location. Not seeing a better choice, Marinette gave the man her letter and asked if he could pass it to Adrien. Then, she arranged a week off for herself and returned to the apartment. 

With her heart and her future at stake, there was nothing she could handle doing for the next two days but packing her belongings and waiting for Adrien’s response to her letter. 

Next >

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

[that’s just what the cold really is]

Sometimes I wake up at one o’clock in the morning to drink some tea and write a briolet oneshot. 

Don’t ask why because I don’t know what this is either. 

Read on AO3

---

Frost kisses the glass, starting from the wooden frame and spreading across the window. Violet stares past the ice, allowing her mind to clear itself, content to exist and be. How long has she sat there, cross-legged on her desk, watching the stillness of the night? Who knows. Long enough for her nose to become cold enough it stung to breathe through it.

Pressing a finger against the foggy glass, Violet glides it across to draw two eyes and a smile. Dumb and lopsided, she thinks, before smearing away one of the eyes. 

With a sigh, Violet climbs off the desk, stiff muscles wincing as her bare feet hit the hardwood floors, so cold it almost hurts to walk. 

Another sleepless night in the beginnings of winter, not an unusual occurrence these days. Not when thoughts of the undead and loved ones long lost haunt the most inner workings of her mind, and not when the cold irritates her eye to the point where she could just rub it better.  

If only she could put some pressure on it, warm it up enough to be uncomfortably comfortable, but the healing process for the loss of an eyeball is apparently a long and agonizing one. Possibly more so than the actual removal itself, though that’s debatable-- Violet doesn’t have nightmares about healing.

No, these days she still has nightmares about a cell much colder than her dorm, about disfigured faces holding her down as she struggles, spitting more curses than pleas. Lilly’s smug voice echoes in her ear from far away and a woman with a cold, dead stare hovers over her, knife in hand as she commands her to stay still.

Violet reaches her arm out to grab the bar belonging to the top bunk of her bed, the metal cold enough to burn her fingertips. She lets her hand drag along it as she makes her way closer to the door. She wouldn’t want to accidentally walk too close and stub her toe again. 

The hallway’s just as dark and still, and it occurs to her that it might be dangerous to walk around here barefoot. Sure, the school’s clearer than it’s ever been thanks to Ruby putting her foot down about everyone being a bunch of pigs, but that doesn’t mean Violet won’t step on a missed piece of glass or a tracked in rock. 

Does that scare her enough to turn around and head back into the forlorn darkness of her dorm to try and get some sleep? 

Violet makes it down the hall with ease, keeping a hand dragging along to wall to steady her. Not that she really needs to do that. It’s not like she’s completely blind. She still has one eye that’s as good as new, but having only one good eye makes for some poor depth perception most of the time. 

The outside chill cuts right through the thin material of her shirt, sinking down into her bones to bring involuntary tremors through her limbs. Rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm them,  she ventures into the yard, setting her sight on the stairs leading into the admin building. 

She doubts anyone will be in the music room tonight, though she is a little hopeful that Louis might be there. She’d enjoy a song or two tonight, she thinks. He could always was make her laugh, and perhaps that’s what she needed right now. 

Louis has his fair share of sleepless nights, and like her, he wanders out here to the music room. Work out frustrations by ‘tickling the ivories,’ as he puts it, or to comfort himself after a bad dream. Violet just hopes that if he’s here tonight that he’s alone. While she enjoys the company of both Louis and Clementine, the two of them being in there together at this time of night probably wouldn’t be the most innocent outing. Violet’s lone eye can only unsee so many things. 

“Jesus,” she curses. A particularly harsh gust of wind nearly knocks her down as she climbs the stairs. “Yeah, great, thanks for that.”

Well, if they are in there together, at least they aren’t freezing their asses off. 

Violet glares up at the sky, wrinkling her nose at the thought. 

Hell, even if they’re both back at the dorms, they’re still warmer together than Violet is out here by herself. Everyone who remains in their bed is warmer than her. Probably. 

Her face softens, gaze falling down to the steps beneath her. 

Maybe cold nights exist as a reason to drawer people closer to one another, to seek and feel the natural warmth only they could provide. Except what does that mean for those who are cold but lonely? Maybe that’s just what the cold really is, Violet thinks. 

Loneliness. Huh. 

Shit.

Maybe it’s her pride or the fact that she’s never felt weaker than she has the past six or so months after escaping the delta’s clutch, leaving her eye with them. Fronting that she’s tougher than she really is made her feel better, acting as though she’s content being alone or that she doesn’t need to rely on others for help even if she knows it’s bullshit.

Doing this always bit her in the ass on nights just like this one. 

It’s silent within the admin building, so it’s safe to conclude that Louis isn’t here. 

She’d never admit her disappointment aloud, but that doesn’t stop the feeling from tugging at her gut. She really hoped he’d be here, hoped they could talk for a while. For as loud and obnoxious as Louis could be, he could listen just as well, be just as quiet and sincere. It’s stupid now to think that she once thought him incapable of serious, deep conversation, not that she ever gave him much of a chance. Not that he gave her much of a chance, either. 

Just a couple of dumbasses, she thinks. Oh well.

Violet turns the corner to see the door to the music room wide open, inviting her in. Moonlight leaks in through the curtain slits, reflecting off the floor and the old piano. Strangely, it doesn’t feel as cold in here. At least, not as much as it is outside, or even in the hallway. 

She approaches the piano, contemplating if she should sit down. She has no idea how to play, nor does she have any desire to. Resting a hand on the worn-out wood, she curiously admires the inner workings of the piano with all its strings and doohickeys. 

Louis offered to teach her once, and she told him that piano music sucks. He never made another offer. 

“Vi?” 

Violet nearly jumps a foot in the air. 

Whipping around, she finds Brody curled up on the couch with a thin blanket over her leg and a mug in hand, wide eyes gazing up at her. 

“Shit, sorry,” Brody apologizes, setting her mug on the table beside the armrest. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just didn’t think you saw me and I didn’t want to be, well, creepin’ over here without ya knowin.’” 

Violet presses a hand against her frantic heart, taking a deep breath and nodding. 

“No, yeah, definitely didn’t see you. Y’know,” she motions to the patch over her eye, “blind spot.” 

Brody seems to stiffen up, but gives an unsure nod, face falling as she glances down at her hands. She stretches out her legs, making like she’s going to stand but changes her mind. 

Violet frowns, silently scolding herself. 

“What’re you doin’ up?” Brody finally asks. 

Violet gives a halfhearted shrug. 

“Can’t sleep. Obviously.”

“Your eye?” 

“Among other things.”

Brody nods once more, and Violet can’t help but stare at her, even though Brody can probably feel it. Even from here, and with her vision impairment, Brody’s scare is harshly prominent against her more delicate features. Right above her brow, long and discolored now, fully healed. 

Violet almost scoffs aloud. Fucking Marlon. She hopes he’s freezing his ass off living down in the old train station now. After what he did to Brody, after finding out what he did to Minnie and Sophie, they kicked him out of Ericson. And even after everything with the raiders, after Marlon helped them escape the boat before it exploded, he’s still not welcome here. 

Well, more so Marlon decided it’d be in everyone’s best interest if he didn’t live at Ericson anymore, instead settling in the train station so that he was close enough if they ever needed him. Everyone agreed, even Louis. That was a surprise, but he agreed that Marlon being here with them wouldn’t work anymore, and maybe knowing where Marlon was and that he was safe helped Louis be content with the decision. 

Violet’s just glad she doesn’t have to see him every day, and that he’s far away from Brody, but even gone he’s left marks all over this school... all over Brody’s face. 

“What about you?” Violet asks to break the awkward pause. “Can’t sleep either?”

“Nah,” Brody finally looks at her, tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ear. Bedhead, Violet thinks. Funny. “Tossin’ and turnin’ don’t suit me. If I’m gonna be awake, I might as well be outta bed and doin’ something.” 

“Something like sitting in the dark like a weirdo?”

That gets a small smile from Brody. 

“Yeah, somethin’ like that,” she says. “Just wanted some tea and a change of scenery. Wasn’t expecting company...” she trails off, but keeps her gaze on Violet as she quietly adds, “but it’s a welcome surprise.”

Violet almost smiles despite herself, having to bite the inside of her cheek. 

Ever since they lost the twins, things have been rocky with Brody. After Clementine and AJ showed up, Violet felt for the first time in a so long that her friendship with Brody was salvageable, that maybe they could be close again. Clementine forced her to see what was really bothering her about Brody and why things were so shitty between them, and Violet found herself wanting to fix it. 

Then the truth Marlon and Brody were hiding from them came out, and Violet was beyond pissed. Even with Brody lying in bed, bandages wrapped around her head and her skin sticky and pale, Violet hated her. 

Yeah, hated her. Hated her for lying to her face for over a year, for keeping that secret to hide her and Marlon’s guilt, for trying to grow close with her knowing what she had done. 

Violet never fathomed that she’d ever forgive Brody, but then Brody healed and could explain everything. 

Then the raiders attacked, and she and Brody were taken away, forced to share a cell on the raider’s boat. When Violet failed to cooperate, and they... well, Brody was the one to hold her, sob into her shoulder from within that cell.  

Suddenly, a lot of things didn’t seem to matter anymore. 

“You want some tea?” Brody offers, holding up her own mug. “It’s minty.”

“No, no...” Violet shakes her head, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. 

“It’ll warm ya up. Can see ya shakin’ from over here.”

“Maybe I like the cold.”

“No one likes the cold.”

“Maybe I do.”

Brody rolls her eyes, throwing the blanket off and standing. Over by the fireplace, she lights a match to ignite her makeshift warmer to boil more water. 

Violet abandons the piano, finding a place on the opposite side of the couch as Brody wanders about the room, humming to herself. She comes back with another blanket, this one heavier. Violet accepts gratefully, covering her body up to her chin.

Brody hands her to streaming mug, the scent of warm mint clearing her senses. Violet can’t help but groan after taking a sip, the heat spreading through her body. 

“Good?”

“It’s okay,” Violet lies. ”I guess.”

Brody smiles. Violet wonders how close she’ll sit now that she’s here, but Brody doesn’t move to do so. Instead, she grabs one of the candles off the piano, flicking a match to light it. Violet raises a brow up at her, which Brody meets with a playful shrug. 

“it’s cold,” she says simply, setting the candle down on the small round table. 

Violet can’t help it. She laughs. That makes Brody smile. 

Her laughter dies when the couch dips with Brody’s weight beside her. 

“C’mon,” Brody grins, tugging at the comforter. “Don’t be a hog.”

Violet doesn’t bother putting up a fight, lifting the blanket to let Brody scoot closer. Shoulder to shoulder, they get comfortable. 

“Y’know what I miss?” Brody asks. 

“Summer?”

“No-- well, actually yes, I do miss summer, but that’s not what I was gonna say,” she brings her long legs us, tucking them beneath her. This makes her lean more into Violet and it takes all her concentration to not spill hot tea over her hands. “I was thinkin’ that I miss jerky.”

“Jerky?”

“Yeah. I used to go on these trips once a year with my dad to see my grandpa. Was always just to two of us, and we’d be on the road for hours, but we’d stop at this gas station-- the same one every time, and he’d get us these long sticks of spicy jerky that you could barely chew without feelin’ like ya were gonna break a tooth.”

“Gross,” Violet wrinkles her nose. “Ever break a tooth?”

“Nah, not really. Sure made my jaw sore by the time I was finished, though. Take ya about an hour to get through the whole thing properly. But Daddy said that was the point. Ya gotta chew it long enough to get all the flavor outta it, otherwise, it’s just a waste.” 

“He couldn’t’ve brought you a hotdog or something?”

“You ever have a hotdog from a gas stop?” Brody makes a gagging noise. “Wouldn’t be surprised if those things were made of roadkill off the highway.” 

“How’s that any different than what we eat now?” Violet asks, teasing. “It’s just in stew form instead.”

“I’ll tell him you compared his famous stew to flea-bitten roadkill.” 

“Do it,” Violet challenges with a smirk, setting her tea aside. “I can take him.”

Brody snorts out a laugh, hand flying up to cover her mouth to muffle the outburst, managing an, “Oh god,” out. 

Once Brody gets a hold of herself, Violet says, “Never had jerky like that. Though I didn’t go on many road trips.” 

“We could go on one,” Brody suggests lightly, nudging her. “Get away from here, go find a beach somewhere and sit in the sun.”

“Only if I get to drive.” 

Brody, a soft smile tugging at her lips, wraps an arm around Violet’s shoulders to pull her close, gently rubbing more heat into her arm.

Despite the heaviness in Violet’s stomach, it flutters at the feeling of her body pressed against Brody’s. She hesitates, but eventually leans into the warmth of her side, resting her head in the crook of Brody’s neck while slipping her arms around her waist. 

“Can’t tell anyone we’re goin,’ though,” Brody mumbles. “I’m not spending days in a car with Louis and his singalongs.”

“Twenty-five bottles of beers on the wall, twenty-five bottles of beer-”

“Oh god.”

“-take one down--”

“No!”

“-pass it around-”

Brody’s hand presses over Violet’s mouth to silence her, all while the both of them laugh together. For the first time that night, Violet doesn’t feel a single chill prick at her skin. She pulls Brody’s hand from her face, holding it in her own. When Brody doesn’t pull away, she takes a risk in lacing their fingers together. 

Brody squeezes her hand back in approval. 

The laughter dies down. Brody pulls the blanket closer over them, and together they sit for a while. 

Just as Violet’s eye begins to droop shut, the fatigue finally hitting her, Brody’s lips press against her forehead. Violet thinks to turn her head up to kiss Brody back, really kiss her, but doesn’t. 

Too tired, too comfortable, too warm. 

Violet allows sleep to take her. 

[ravinewreyn]

Siren’s Song

Rating: T Pairing: Hans/Elsa TW: Suicide Attempt

To be honest I was going through my file and found this, fixed some spelling and grammar as I read over it, and found out it’s basically finished but never posted for some reason

Anyway, here ya go

“What troubles you so, dear Prince?”

Coldness had stabbed him, piercing through his body and reaching into his very bones, as he had fallen into the dark waters, violent waves crashing against him and yet he had done nothing, not a single struggle had come from him even when he could swim, he was excellent at it, as expected from a man of the Navy. Instead, he let the water pulled him in, deep down where salt stung against his eyes and where his lungs burned from the lack of air as water had slowly replaced it.

The irony of it, to die in the one place where he found most comfort in, the one place where he could get away from his family and their poor treatment toward the youngest of the thirteen sons of the King, had almost made him laugh. Years he had served his kingdom and yet never once did his father had ever look at him without the disgust in his eyes, never once did his brothers ever treated him any differently than they did from the moment that he learned how to talk and walk.

“To wish to die this way?”

The strong picked on the weak, and despite his effort in turning the tables around, for him to escape his fate, he was starting to see that perhaps he was indeed the weak one in the family.

None of his brothers had faced the inner struggles that he had every single day, none had to fight their own mind to come out of their bedchamber, to resist the urge to hurt themselves as a method of relief from a pain he could not escape, to flee from the fate that he had been cursed to born into.

Death was the ultimate escape that he had chosen.

None would find his body, let it decay on the seabed until he was nothing but a skeleton to add to Mother Nature’s collection as his mind would finally be at peace. He no longer had to suffer, to live with the ridicule of everyone that known him, the feeling of belittlement that sat heavy on his shoulders, the ignorance his father so cruelly gave him, of every cut and bruise that his brothers had caused onto him.

Alluring voice that whispered beneath the surface as his body sunk deeper had originally thought to come from his own mind, or perhaps it was the angel of death welcoming him in it’s embrace, either way he only wished to get it over with.

Instead, his body had coughed the salt water back out as he found himself on the slippery black rocks, crashing waves filling his ears as he tried to blink away the sting in his eyes as he looked at his surrounding, to see who had been foolish enough to think that he was a man worth saving, to prevent him from what he had wanted for so long.

“Pitiful man.”

The wrist that he had grabbed had been slender, small in the grasp of his hand, and has a strange tingle as it struggled to be freed. Eyes following up the pale arm he had captured, he was met with a pair of large icy blue eyes staring at him through the drenched platinum blonde locks, the alarmed expression had been so clear as the woman’s body mostly remained underwater.

Her shoulders were bare, as if she did not have any sort of clothing to protect her from the chill of the night, soaked in water, and to protect her dignity from the wandering eyes of those who may see her. It should have been his warning that something had not been right.

Neither the snarl nor the barred sharp teeth could make his hold on her loosened, her slippery skin had almost escaped, yet his much stronger build had instead yanked her higher up onto the stone when he had pulled his hand away from the snap of her jaw out of instinct, and as for now she had most of her upper body laid out for him to see, bare as a newborn.

And yet, it was the flailing silvery blue tail that caught his attention the most, to where the pale of her skin faded into scales where her hips were, as she struggled to tug herself back into the water.

A mermaid.

“Ungrateful human!” Her sneer had sounded so ghastly, as if whispered into his ears and yet she was nowhere near his face, and yet it was still somewhat alluring, so… familiar.

“You saved my life.” Stories of her kind had never been a pleasant one, no matter how many people that thought that mermaids were a gentle and harmless creature, sailors such as he known better, had heard and sometimes even witness the horror that would happen should one encounter a mermaid. “Why?”

“Release me or I shall bite your hand off.”

“Do it.”

The challenge in his eyes had silenced the mermaid before him, or perhaps it was his sincerity that did, for he had no care for what his creature would do to him, even if he would end up as her supper for the night. At least then he has a little worth in his own self.

The sudden fill of his ears with the alluring and unknown tune that he had been hearing these past days had made his grasp loosened around the mermaid’s wrist, enough for her to escape from his hold, and yet once the sound of crashing waves replaced the song, she remained on the rock with him, wasting her chance of returning into the sea.

“It was you who sang.” The song he had heard every time he had gone to the beach each night as his way of escaping from his family, of their constant torment, if only for a moment, it had been luring him into walking toward the sea, and yet stopping when the water had merely reached his thighs and leaving him with nothing but soaked pants. “You have been watching me.”

“You did not drown yourself the first night like most.” He could have sworn, at that moment, that he had heard a slight frustration in her voice as she spoke. “Men who wish to die does not fall for the Siren’s Song.”

Then perhaps she saw him more of a food worth of toying around then, for if he had drowned then it would be far easier for her to eat him, there was no sailor that struggled against her grasp or one who dragged her up onto the rocks to convers.

“What is it that makes you become such man?”

“Why would a mermaid be curious over such thing?”

Her head tilted to a side, icy blue eyes narrowed as she watched him, and for once he let his own wandered over her, to the way her light hair hung around and over her face to the scales that shone as the pale moonlight reflected on them, to the webbed fingers of her hands.

“Why you let me live?”

“Your kind is awfully full of questions.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Her jaw tightened, for a moment he had thought that perhaps becoming the source of irritation was the best way to provoke her into killing him, to let him fulfill his destiny to perish in the sea, and yet she had only turned and let herself slipped back into the water, leaving him.

He did not wish to part away.

For he had chased after her just as the end of her tail disappeared from the surface, holding onto it just as she was about to swim away, the gesture prompting her to tug him close to her with another snarl of frustration, nails digging into his shoulders as she brought his head to break through the surface with a glare.

“I wish to die, mermaid. Let me.”

“Your despair sickens me.”

“Then kill me.” What had troubled this creature so much that it had made it difficult to do what she had done best? “Why didn’t you?”

“You reminded me of what I once was.”

“You were a human.”

“A queen.”

Stories of men and women cursed to dwell the sea for eternity was not as common as other tales, yet it was one of the theories people had come up with on how mermaids had existed in the first place, a curse or an ill fate none shall know.

Until now.

“Had the land-dwellers treated you as poorly then?”

She had the title many had fought for, where blood was spilled and families lost to a crown on their head. Had she been casted into the sea and doomed to haunt the waters or had she perhaps, in such twisted fate, suffer the way he did?

“I do not recall.”

It was said that mermaids had lived far longer than men, their existence under the sea could have witnessed more historical events than any human had, people just did not know. If that had been true then she may have born into one of the ancient kingdoms, one that even he did not know still stood or not.

“Then you should understand my desire to escape this world.”

As cowardly as it has sounded, for a man of rank like him to desire such end, he did not care. He was talking, pouring his heart out, to a mermaid.

He was losing his mind.

“And be cursed the way I did?”

“If that means I will be free, yes.”

“You would not.”

Her nails dug deeper as she brought him under, and this time, she swam deeper into the darker parts of the ocean. His lungs burned and his eyes stung, water went past his ears as she kept swimming.

His fate was sealed then, no matter how it ended, him turning into one of her kind or drowned and becoming her supper after all, he was not coming back into the world he despised the most.

And he was at peace.